












% 

























































y 





















































































* 





0 














































































































































































. 














































































































































































































































































































































































■ 

































































































/ 


PIQUE. 


*/r 

4 


A NOVEL. 


> > > 

* 0 

) 

> e > 




TWENTIETH EDITION. 




LOSING-, Publisher, 

Cob. Bbomfield and Washington Streets, 


BOSTON. 








■ • 





X 
















(. 

i. t. 

c 

, < <■ < ( < 

: ( <-< 

\ < <• < 

< 

< 

< ( ( < <■ 

( (. < < C 



<. ' f 

1 

< c 

< (( l '/< 1 

c < c ' < 

,r ( ( < ‘ <. < 

< < f. < 

( c ' 

( < c c ( r ( ( 


< c «. 


< 


< < < < 

( (L C * * l 

c C < 

( < * < c <. < t 


^ < < <■ < 
f. < V 

< < < l ^ 

V < <• 

< < 1. < ' 


l < » 
( 

c 

r 


c ( .» 


c c 


«*« 

‘ ;• - ‘ •' : 
< < ( r t ( c 

f f «f <• 



( C < 
< 

C <■ 
< 
< 


< 


< 

t 

(. 

c 


c/ 











CHAPTER I. 


** Oh, Mildred ! I have heard the strangest rumor this morn, 
ing. Is it possible Lord Alresford is expected here to-day ? ” cried 
Helen Campbell, hastily flinging open tbe door of a small exquis- 
itely furnished boudoir, in which her friend was sitting. 

Mildred Effingham’s fair face slightly flushed ; she looked up 
from her drawing, — a bunch of magnificent geraniums, — and 
laying down her brush, said, rather coldly, — 

“ You may well be surprised, Helen. When I reached home 
after our walk yesterday afternoon, I found papa in some conster- 
nation awaiting me here, with Lord Alresford’ s despatch in his 
hand, which had just arrived by a special messenger.” 

“ And so it is true ? I suppose we must make up our minds 
soon to lose you, Mildred. How desolate dear old Greysdon will 
appear ! ” exclaimed Helen with a sigh, divesting herself of her 
bonnet and cloak, and throwing herself on a low ottoman by Miss 
Effingham’s side. 

“ Helen, that time is not come ! ” hastily rejoined Mildred ; “ do 
not talk of it ; it makes me so miserable to think of quitting you 
all. How did you learn Lord Alresford’s expected arrival ? I had 
just written yonder little note, to beg you to come and spend the 
morning with me.” 

“ Mamma walked to the Rectory early, and Mrs. Northcote told 
her she understood the park lodge-keepers had received orders from. 
Lord Elvaston to be upon the lookout, for the Earl was expected 
to arrive at the Priory about four this afternoon.” 

Mildred, who knew very well the gossiping propensities of good 
Mrs. Campbell, could not refrain from smiling. 

“ And was this all the news Mrs. Campbell gleaned?” 

Helen felt slightly puzzled. 


4 


PIQUE. 


“ Mrs. Northcote supposed your marriage would not long be 
delayed, which you know, dear Mildred, under all circumstances, 
was a very natural conclusion.” 

“ Very ! ” exclaimed Mildred, petulantly ; “ considering that I 
have not one feeling, one thought, in common with the man who, 
to use his own words, hastens to claim me as his bride.” 

“Is it really so, Mildred ? are these indeed your true senti- 
ments? ” said Helen, in a tone of grave anxiety. 

“ Helen, the thought of this marriage makes me utterly wretch- 
ed. Nay, you must long have known this. During Lord Alresford’s 
absence in Italy, the danger seemed less imminent ; but his sud- 
den return and arrival here quite overpowers me. Read the cool 
manner in which he announces I must forthwith hold myself pre- 
pared to receive him as my future lord and master.” 

Helen opened the letter which Mildred thrust into her hands, 
and perused it without comment. 

“Oh, Mildred, you must be prejudiced. Surely, judging Lord 
Alresford from this letter, you cannot accuse him of presumption ; 
it appears to me perfectly respectful both towards yourself and 
Lord Elvaston,” cried Helen, folding the letter. 

“Towards papa, —yes. Papa thinks there never was such a 
paragon born into the world as Philip Tollemache ! ” exclaimed 
Mildred, pettishly, though a bright tear dimmed the lustre of her 
eye. “ But say, my darling grave counsellor,” continued she, 
throwing her arm lightly round Helen’s graceful neck, “ where is 
this marvellous respect to myself, when Lord Alresford has not 
deigned to notify by a single word or line, his approaching arrival 
at the Priory to me, who certainly am most concerned in it ? ” 

“ Unjust ! ” exclaimed Helen, kissing the glowing cheek of her 
friend, and taking the letter from the table, she read : “In con- 
clusion, dear Lord Elvaston, you will be good enough to present 
my most respectful regards and homage to Miss Effingham, and 
express my deep regret that she has not considered my two last 
letters from Florence worthy of the honor of a reply ” 

“ Nay, stop Helen ! ” exclaimed Mildred, now fairly melting 
into tears ; “ it is this calm superiority of manner which cuts me 
to the quick. What right has Lord Alresford to administer this 
covert rebuke in a letter to papa ? He evidently despises, and con- 
siders me a child, and treats me accordingly.” 

“No, dearest, though I have never seen Lord Alresford, I am 
sure he must and does render homage to a mind and character 
such as yours ; but, Mildred, why did you suffer this foolish mis- 
understanding to arise, by not answering his lordship’s letters? ” 


PIQUE. 


5 


“ Because I will not submit to be lectured, Helen. Unhappily, 
I chanced to mention my long ride alone with Colonel Sutherland 
ty the ruins at Eernly. This meeting, as you know, was purely 
accidental, and as the Colonel was riding the same way as myself, 
I certainly could not, with any regard to politeness, dismiss him 
from my side. Well, the tirade his lordship chose to write on the 
impropriety of Miss Effingham making herself so notorious, and 
hinting that such conduct would be perfectly inadmissible when 
she attained the sublime dignity of Lady Alresford, was perhaps 
unequalled. There was a great deal more besides, Helen, which 
1 forget ; but I did not choose to submit to such tutelage.” 

“ But, Mildred, will you not suffer remonstrance from the man 
with whom you are to spend your future life, and submit to be 
treated like a reasonable being ? ” 

“ Lord Alresford is a great deal too good for me, Helen. I 
detest these marvels of propriety. Give me instead poor human 
nature, with all its failings! Would that Lady Catherine Neville, 
whose transcendent virtue he is always quoting, had been elected 
for the exalted honor of wearing his coronet and presiding over 
the surpassing glories of Amesbury Park ! ” cried Mildred, pas- 
sionately. 

“ Lady Catherine Neville ! Lord Alresford’s ward, is she not ? ” 
asked Helen, inquiringly. 

“ Yes ; she is an heiress, and lives at Wardour Court, somewhere 
near Amesbury. Her father, Lord Willingham, died about a year 
and a half ago, and made the son of his old friend, the late Lord 
Alresford, his daughters guardian.” 

** I wonder what kind of personage this Lady Catherine is?” 

“ Do not trouble yourself, Helen; you will not long be in the 
dark after his lordship’s arrival. The Earl brought Lady Catherine 
over from Italy, and established her at Wardour Court ; and, 
indeed, I should be ungrateful not to acknowledge my full obli- 
gations to her ladyship, whose sudden summons, I verily believe, 
prevented the solemnization of our marriage six months ago.” 

“ Hush, Mildred, hush ! it is positively wrong to indulge in this 
strain. It is a very long time since you saw Lord Alresford ; so 
perhaps, dearest, you may have formed an erroneous estimate of 
his character. How long is it ? ” 

“ Two years.” 

“ Nay, then, Mildred, it is quite possible you may be mistaken. 
At our age, two years make a vast change in opinions and senti- 
ments.” 

Mildred shook her head incredulously. 

]o 


6 


PIQUE. 


“ You know, Helen, I was quite a child when first betrothed to 
Philip Tollemache, and had no more choice or interest in the mat- 
ter than yourself ; save, perhaps, a childish feeling of elation on 
being told I was wife elect to the very handsome young man whom 
I heard every one around me laud, and who I gazed upon myself 
with sentiments somewhat akin to awe. His lordship then went 
abroad for some years, during the which we duly corresponded, 
and returned to England about two years ago with Lord Willing- 
ham and his daughter ; and when he visited the Priory, whether 
he found the contrast too glaring between the virtues of the Lady 
Catherine and the faults of his betrothed, certain it is never were 
couple more unlover-like than ourselves. We did not actually 
quarrel ; but move, speak, laugh as I would, always that calm, 
dark eye rested upon me. Often I know my conduct must have 
appeared giddy and undignified ; but I was very young, and he 
ought to have made allowance ; besides, I never was born to per- 
form the r6le of a stiff, starched dame, abounding in furbelows, 
and decorum ! Well, Helen, the upshot of the whole matter was, 
that Lord Alresford, after remaining our guest for two months, was 
suddenly called away to the continent on business ; which he took 
care to state required a very brief term to transact. Nevertheless, 
from the palazzo of the Willinghams at Florence, he wrote to papa 
requesting his permission to delay our marriage for another year — 
and we will see ! ” 

“But, Mildred, if it were all along your serious intention to 
fulfil the engagement contracted for you, how very strange not to 
employ this period, and the advantage you possessed of learning 
his lordship’s sentiments and wishes, in moulding your habits and 
tastes to his — which ever must exercise so essential an influence 
over your future happiness. I cannot understand it ! ” 

“Nay, that was as much his lordship’s province as mine,” ex- 
claimed Mildred, tossing her beautiful head, though tears glistened 
in her eyes. “ Others, Helen, eagerly proffered that homage which 
Lord Alresford so studiously withheld ! ” 

Helen Campbell raised her clear eyes inquiringly. Miss Effing- 
ham’s brow crimsoned. 

“ Perhaps you will find ere long that all their flattery has not 
the value of one simple word of commendat : on spoken by your 
betrothed, Mildred,” replied she, seriously. 

“ Helen, are you also suddenly become a partisan of the Earl? ” 
exclaimed Mildred, in a tone of pique. “ I tell you, I never can 
love one who exacts so much for himself. I might just as well 
attempt to endow with vitality one of the glowing flowers on this 
paper before me, as to raise myself to his standard.” 


PIQufc. 


7 


“ Then why marry him, Mildred ? It would be far more hon- 
orable and better principled to decline the engagement at once.” 

“ Oh, could I think myself at liberty so to do! But, Helen, I 
will tell you the history of it,” cried Mildred, earnestly, “ and you 
shall judge. At the time old Lord Elvaston died, which happened 
when I had attained my tenth year, his title descended to papa, as 
you know ; but his estates, and amongst them this beautiful old 
place, reverted to the late Earl of Alresford. Papa and he, (as I 
think I have before told you, Helen,) were intimate friends, school- 
fellows, and fellow-collegians. The Earl was immensely wealthly 
and most generously proposed to papa to cede his right to the 
Elvaston estates, provided the miserable little heiress-presumptive 
of the title was betrothed to his only son — who had then just, or 
nearly, attained his majority. Upon this solemn contract and 
agreement, papa has alone for the last ten years held the right over 
these estates ; and upon its accomplishment, Helen, depends his 
future tenure. If any objection arises on the part of Lord Alres- 
ford, the estates devolve wholly and entirely to papa, in accordance 
with a deed executed by the late Earl ; and — though I acknowl- 
edge his lordship to be noble and generous enough to set me free 
should I demand it — - yet, did the violation of the contract pro- 
ceed from me, I know papa would peremptorily insist on yielding 
up every acre of the property ; and he would be only just, Helen, 
— for even then we should be deeply indebted to the Earl.” 

“ My poor Mildred, is there then no escape ? ” cried Helen, 
gazing with painful emotion on the flushing cheek of her friend. 

“ Surely Lord Elvaston, who loves you so tenderly ” 

“No, Helen! Nothing could be done, dearest, unless it were 
the spontaneous act of Lord Alresford to set me free. Think ! 
could I by any deed of mine deliberately exile papa from a home 
he loves so much ? and dear mamma, likewise, who is so proud of 
this beautiful place ? Could I drive them both forth, in their de- 
clining years, to support a peerage on the paltry pittance of a poor 
commoner ? ” 

“ Dear Mildred, do not excite yourself thus ! ” exclaimed 
Helen, throwing her arm around her friend’s neck, and kissing 
away the tears on her cheek. “ Every one speaks so well of Lord 
Alresford, that in time you must learn to love him ; and, perhaps, 
even when you see him again, you will be amazed at your present 
prejudice. I know you have no serious attachment ; for I cannot 
bring myself so to designate your foolish flirtation with Colonel 
Sutherland.” 

“ Sutherland esteems me as I feel I ought to be appreciated, 


8 


PIQUE. 


Helen. Contrast the warmth of his devotion, short as is the time 
since we first met, with his lordship’s cold indifference.” 

“But surely you would not marry Colonel Sutherland, even 
were you free to do so, Mildred ! A man who has hut his hand- 
some person, and a most surpassing facility in uttering light flat- 
teries and empty nothings, to boast of.” 

“He loves me — which is more than my affianced husband 
does!” exclaimed Mildred, vehemently. “However, though I 
cannot insist on my release from this engagement, I will be no 
hypocrite ; and Lord Alresford shall know full well he is dragging 
a reluctant bride to the altar ! ” 

At this instant a sharp rap at the door made Helen start to 
her feet. Mildred raised her head from the sofa-cushion, and 
hastily dried her tears. In a few seconds the boudoir door opened, 
and a pretty, coquettish-looking damsel stood on the threshold, 
twirling between her fingers an artificial branch of splendid scarlet 
japonica. 

“ Come in, Aglae ! ” exclaimed Miss Effingham. 

“ Pardon, mesdemoiselles,” said Mademoiselle Aglae, advancing 
trippingly into the apartment ; “ but miledi command me to come 
and see wesder dese flowers be suited to the head of Mademoiselle 
Effingham. Miledi order me to prepare your white silk glacee, 
mademoiselle, for this evening, and you are to wear this wreath 
also. Heavens ! what a beautiful effect ! ” exclaimed the pretty 
soubrette, lightly twining the glowing flowers amid Mildred’s jetty 
curls. “ Ah ! milor will be enchanted, this evening, with the 
beauty of his fair bride.” 

“ That will do, Aglae. Take the flowers away. I will wear any- 
thing mamma and you arrange, only I cannot be disturbed just 
now,” said Mildred, languidly. 

“ Ah, Mademoiselle Campbell, what joy is for you to-day.” 

“ Where is mamma ? ” interrupted Mildred, impatiently. 

“ Lady Elvaston is sitting in de salon writing, and I was to give 
her ladyship’s kind loove to you, Miss Campbell, and say, she hope 
to see you dis evening at dinner.” And away Mademoiselle Aglae 
was bounding, when she suddenly stopped short, and returned. 
“ Have you any furder command for me, mademoiselle? What 
shall I say to miledi, Miss Campbell?” 

“ Helen dearest, you must positively come this evening,” whis- 
pered Mildred, as she saw her friend hesitate. “You may go, 
Aglae, I will give mamma Miss Campbell’s answer.” 

“ I wonder wether his lordship would prefare seeing madem- 
oiselle’s hair-dress in braids, or in ringlets,” murmured Aglae to 


PIQUE. 


9 


herself, surveying artistically, Mildred’s small head. ‘‘Well, 
mademoiselle, I shall tell her ladyship ; ” and, with a low courtesy, 
the soubrette vanished. 

“ Helen, I will hear no denial ; come you shall this evening.” 

“ But, Mildred, on this first evening of Lord Alresford’s ar- 
rival, will it not appear rather intrusive if I accept your mamma’s 
kind invitation?” 

Miss Effingham laughed. 

“ Nay, Helen, you make one only among many similar delin- 
quents. We have a dinner party to-night; though, of course, our 
guests were all invited before we heard of Lord Alresford’s in- 
tended arrival. Colonel Sutherland dines here. Dear mamma, 
when she chose the japonicas for my hair, little dreamed she was 
selecting the Colonel’s favorite flower,” cried Mildred, perversely 
tossing her head, as she stooped and picked from the floor a bud 
which dropped from the wreath during Aglae’s manipulations. 

** Mildred, I conjure you be careful what you do. Depend upon 
it, Colonel Sutherland’s purpose is merely to lure you into an 
empty flirtation. How unfortunate it so happens he should 
have been invited to the Priory the very day of Lord Alresford’s 
arrival. 

“If my conduct excites so intolerably his lordship’s disappro- 
bation, he had better set me free at once ; which certainly would 
be his wisest plan. By-the-bye, Helen, did you observe, when 
reading the Earl’s letter, that Sir Gerard Baynton accompanies him 
here on a visit to papa?” 

“Yes; I was going to ask about him. Is Sir Gerard a friend 
of yours, Mildred?” 

“No, not exactly a friend; a slight acquaintance only ; but I 
predict, Helen, you will be smitten with the Baronet. He is 
young, handsome, rich, and does not consider himself quite such a 
paragon and model as my noble betrothed. Sir Gerard apparently 
is all lively animation, though I suspect few possess a keener fac- 
ulty for reading motives and character than he does. He is a most 
intimate friend of Lord Alresford’s ; they travelled together a good 
deal on the continent ; and this, you know, dearest, is a sufficient 
certificate of kindly nurture. Ah, Helen, how I wish he would fall 
in love with you ! ” 

“ What a vision ! ” replied Helen Campbell, laughing. “ Who 
would ever dream of Sir Gerard Baynton falling in love with the 
daughter of the poor curate of Greysdon ? ” 

“ Not so impossible,” rejoined Mildred, gazing on Helen’s clear, 
intellectual face, and finely moulded figure. “ Sir Gerard ” 


10 


PIQUE. 


“ Mildred ! come down here for a few minutes, dear child. 
Ashford has just brought in some magnificent plants, and I 
want you to give directions how you will have them placed in the 
conservatory,” exclaimed the soft voice of Lady Elvaston, from 
below. 

“In a moment, mamma,” cried Miss Effingham, rising and 
opening the door. “ Come, Helen, I am sure your advice will be 
needed. I shall have no heart in arranging these beautiful 
exotics for Lord Alresford to gaze upon.” 

“ For shame, Mildred ! ” 

“ Come ! ” 

“ Indeed, you must excuse me. I promised papa to be at home 
by half-past three. I have something to do for him this after- 
noon.” 

“ Well, remember we dine at seven.” 

“ Mildred,” whispered Helen, emphatically, as they embraced 
at the door of the saloon, “ I conjure you to consider that, per- 
haps, the entire happiness of your future life depends on the events 
of this evening. If you intend to fulfil this engagement, greet 
Lord Alresford as one whose affection and good opinion you 
prize.” 

“ Fear not, Helen. I will ponder your counsel,” said Miss 
Effingham, bounding away. 

Helen paused a moment, then crossed the hall, and passing 
through a glass door at its end, proceeded along a path through 
the garden, and shrubberies leading to the village. She walked 
on slowly, for there had been much in her brief interview with 
Miss Effingham to arouse meditation, both intense and painful. 
She trembled for her friend’s happiness. She felt that Mildred 
was on the verge of keen, and it might be severe trial ; for, with 
all her many admirable and engaging qualities, Helen dreaded the 
wayward petulance of her character. 

Indulged and idolized by her parents and friends, Mildred Ef- 
fingham had as yet seen everything, and everybody, save her 
betrothed, bend to her caprice, and all obstacles to her will vanish 
beneath the sunny influence of her smile. Impatient of censure 
or the slightest control, her spirit, pure, bright, and joyous, roamed 
at will, and tasted capriciously of all the varied delights and gifts 
with which she was surrounded. But, unfortunately for her future 
peace, this wayward perversity was not the only defect which tar- 
nished a character otherwise noble and lovable — she lacked also, 
undeviating candor, and openness of disposition. With the purest 
and most righteous intentions, Miss Effingham, even when con- 


PIQUE. 


11 


vince d of the justice and necessity of any defined course of action, 
especially if it wounded her self-love, or infringed in the smallest 
degree on her self-complacency, suffered this irresolution of char- 
acter to overpower her better judgment. As yet, her life had been 
so unclouded as to afford little room for its full development ; but 
Helen Campbell, her chosen friend and companion, early detected 
and grieved over many trifling indications of this grave failing, 
justly apprehending, that as years rolled on and Mildred was called 
to lay aside her butterfly existence, and act, it might prove a 
source of much bitter disquietude. 

Early taught by the universal applause which everywhere greeted 
her, to believe her beauty and wit irresistible, and that she was 
born to carry the world by storm, Mildred found, with feelings of 
intense pique and resentment, that, of all her friends, her be- 
trothed husband, Lord Alresford, appeared least sensible of, and 
penetrated with, her numerous attractions. Long she pertina- 
ciously resisted the conviction that he actually presumed to hold 
up the Lady Catherine Neville as a model in many things worthy of 
imitation ; but the Earl’s terse, conclusive sentences admitted of 
no misconstruction. Scorning, then, the task of self-examination, 
and piqued already at his former refusal of her hand, Mildred, 
with characteristic perversity, obstinately attributed the Earl’s 
insensibility to Lady Catherine’s blandishments. Yet, as far as 
her real knowledge went, this suspicion was reared on very slight 
foundation. That they had travelled together in Switzerland, and 
that the Earl spent much of his time in Venice with Lord Willing- 
ham, and eulogized Lady Catherine’s devotion to her invalid 
father, formed in reality the sole basis of her secret misgiving. 

Mildred had formed her own estimate of the devotion and def- 
erence due to her from her betrothed, and she felt mortified that 
the reality fell so far short of her expectation. Her self-love was 
wounded, and her awe of him increased. She had yet to learn 
that perfect mutual confidence must be the bond of the entire 
devotion she expected, without any definite design of making a 
corresponding return. Her letters consequently grew colder and 
fewer, and those she received from the Earl in return were conned 
with keen, jealous scrutiny. Lord Alresford, since the period of 
his father’s decease, held a high diplomatic post abroad, for which 
his great talents eminently qualified him ; thus unfettered by his 
restraining presence, Mildred had basked in the sunshine of her 
home prosperity,' banishing, as far as possible, from her mind the 
thought that her faith and allegiance were pledged to another. 
Lord and Lady Elvaston, however, keenly felt the indifference 


12 


PIQUE. 


their daughter evinced towards the man to whom their own per- 
sonal and peculiar circumstances had bound her ; but, really proud 
of her alliance with one so distinguished and sought after as Lord 
Alresford, they lulled themselves in the hope that, on a more 
intimate acquaintance with the Earl, her repugnance and awe 
would vanish ; while her exquisite loveliness of person and culti- 
vated mind, they doubted not, must finally captivate and enchain 
his affection. 

This reasonable hope might have been realized but for one un- 
toward circumstance. While smarting at the contents of a letter 
from the Earl, not quite so laudatory as she could desire, and con- 
taining more reminiscences, past and present, of the Lady Cathe- 
rine than she deemed needful, Mildred met Colonel Sutherland, the 
officer in command of the newly-arrived regiment, stationed in the 
adjoining town of Stanmore, at a grand ball given to celebrate the 
majority of a baronet, their near neighbor. Fascinated at once by 
his homage and evident admiration of her beauty and wit, and 
amused by the ease, and brilliancy of his conversation, and his tal- 
ent for repartee, which kept her own constantly on the qui vwe, 
Mildred abandoned herself, without a thought of the consequences, 
to the daily increasing pleasure she found in his society. Betrayed 
by her wayward craving for applause, and the entire appreciation 
of her numerous attractions, which every act of Colonel Suther- 
land’s soon seemed to bespeak, day after day her sunniest smiles 
greeted him at the Priory ; while, unhappily, Lady Elvaston’s bet- 
ter judgment, vanquished by her daughter’s pertinacious self-will, 
offered no obstacle to these frequent interviews. Vainly Helen 
Campbell remonstrated, for invariably Mildred, laughingly, set 
aside her scruples ; nor, indeed, had she even suspected, until her 
late interview, the sway Colonel Sutherland’s flattery had achieved 
over her friend’s fancy ; for still Helen indignantly rejected the 
notion that Mildred’s heart could challenge fellowship with that 
of a man so shallow, and of such little intrinsic worth. 

Absorbed in these reflections, and wondering how Mildred’s 
romance would terminate, Helen wandered on. The walk she had 
been pursuing was that by which the family at the Priory reached 
the village church, and the gate at the end of the shrubbery 
opened into the churchyard. Mr. Campbell inhabited a very 
pretty rural house, looking down on the church, with a sloping 
garden, separated from the churchyard by a deep sunk fence. 
The taste and industry of Mrs. Campbell had converted her dwell- 
ing into a bower of sweets, and garlands of bright blossoms clus- 
tered round the windows and porch, mingling with vigorous shoots 


PIQUE. 


13 


of ivy, which at this early season of the year put forth its leaves 
of most brilliant green. 

As Helen entered the garden, Mrs. Campbell, who was sitting 
in the veranda close to the dining-room window, which opened on 
the lawn, laid down her work and advanced to meet her. Helen 
at once perceived, by the pleased, important expression of her 
face, that her mother was in one of the most felicitous moods, and 
wondering what fresh news she had heard, hastened forwards ; as 
the declining afternoon sun warned her she had not much time to 
devote to her father’s service, before the important process of dress- 
ing for the Priory dinner party commenced. 


CHAPTER II. 

“So, I understand, Helen, Lord Alresford brings his friend Sir 
Gerard Baynton down with him to day,” exclaimed Mrs. Campbell, 
when her daughter came within hail. 

“ Yes, mamma, both Sir Gerard and the Earl arrive this after- 
noon,” replied Helen. 

“ I accidentally met Mrs. Slater, the housekeeper, two or three 
hours ago, and stayed to have a chat with her in Mill Lane. She 
was returning from Farmer Deak’s, and had been to desire him to 
send four chickens daily up to the Priory until further orders. I 
heard all the news ; and of course you know there is to be a large 
party there to-night ; Mrs. Wedderbourne and her niece, the Ten- 
nysons, Mr. Northcote, and of all men in the world, Colonel Suth- 
erland ! It does surprise me a man, with Lord Elvaston’s nice 
sense of honor and propriety, should tolerate the foolish flirtation 
which has been going on these last six months between the Colonel 
and his daughter ; and still more, that the former should be 
invited to meet Lord Alresford,” said Mrs. Campbell, running on 
with her usual volubility. 

“ You forget, mamma, that all these guests were invited before 
Lord Elvaston knew of the Earl’s arrival.” 

“ Possibly. But then he should devise any excuse rather than 
compel his daughter’s betrothed husband to associate with a man 
whose conduct has rendered her notorious all over the county. 
My dear Helen, you really ought to give Mildred a hint upon the 
2 


14 


PIQUE. 


subject ; even that busy Miss Jenks intimated to me this morning 
that it was rumored throughout the village, Miss Effingham would 
have been as well pleased had his lordship prolonged his conti- 
nental tour.” 

“Oh, who would listen to an old gossip like Miss Jenks? I 
am sure Mildred meant nothing dishonorable towards her future 
caro sposo,” cried Colin Campbell, a fine spirited boy, firing up 
when he heard his mother’s censure on the conduct of his favorite 
Mildred. “ Sutherland is a fine, handsome fellow, and deserves 
a pretty wife. But, Helen, are you not going to the Priory this 
evening? ” 

“ Yes. Lady Elvaston was good enough to ask me, and as I 
knew of no particular objection, I promised, at Mildred’s request, 
to go.” 

“ Of course ; you did perfectly right, Helen,” said Mrs. Camp- 
bell, with a well-pleased expression of countenance. “ I should 
have wondered much had you not been asked. Mrs. North cote 
said she supposed you would.” 

“Iam very glad to go. Dear Mildred ! I feel extremely anx- 
ious to see the man to whom it appears her destiny is soon to be 
united ; but I do so regret that Colonel Sutherland is to be at the 
Priory to-night. ’T is, indeed, a very unpropitious commencement 
of the Earl’s visit,” said Helen, anxiously. 

“ If the Colonel could but divine your uneasiness, Helen, and 
would tumble off his horse, break his neck, or, in fact, do just 
anything to prevent him taking his seat at the Priory table, I 
should pronounce him a capital accommodating fellow. But, my 
dear, darling little Helen, you may spare your anxiety ; for ’t is 
quite clear to me his dignified lordship may save himself the 
trouble of posting down# and setting our quiet village in an 
uproar; Sutherland has already won the prize,” exclaimed Colin 
Campbell, laughing. 

“Nay, Colin, do not jest,” replied Helen, seriously. “I feel 
convinced, from all I have heard this morning, that Mildred within 
the next three months will become Lady Alresford.” 

“ Then ’t is a monstrous shame, if she does not like the Earl, — 
that ’s all I have to say on the subject,” exclaimed Colin, indig- 
nantly 

“ That Colonel Sutherland’s intentions were never serious, I 
have quite concluded ; and, indeed, Mrs. Northcote did once say, 
she heard it was reported in the regiment, that he had long been 
engaged to Miss Conway, Lord Normanton’s sister. Nothing can 
excuse his marked attention to Mildred, save a knowledge of her 


PIQUE. 


15 


long engagement ; which he pleased to suppose rendered his extrav- 
agant homage harmless. I shall take care and ascertain to-night 
whether he really knows of it ; and if not, I will assuredly point 
out the deep injury his continued attention will inflict,” said Helen, 
resolutely. 

“ I wish I were going with you, Helen. How you will enjoy 
yourself; dear Lady Elvaston is so kind!” exclaimed Henrietta 
Campbell, a girl of fifteen, looking up from her book, over which 
she had been poring an hour or more. 

“Nonsense, child! mind your book,” — said Mrs. Campbell, 
sharply, suddenly rousing from a fit of musing, in which she had 
indulged during the last ten minutes. “ I suppose Sir Gerard 
Baynton is not married, Helen ? ” 

“ Oh, no, mamma! Sir Gerard is still a gay, fascinating young 
cavalier ; rich and handsome,” replied Helen, carelessly. 

“ The Chauntry is a fine old mansion, not very distant from Ames- 
bury Park ; which, I suppose, explains the intimacy between Sir 
Gerard and Lord Alresford. Sir Gerard’s mother. Lady Emily 
Baynton, was one of th^ kindest friends of my early days. Your 
father’s first curacy after we married was the village of Weldon, 
and when we quitted it Sir Gerard had grown a fine spirited boy 
of twelve years old. I suppose we shall frequently see him here 
during his visit at the Priory ; though, probably, Helen, you will 
spend some time with your friend there before her marriage, — 
should it ever ripen into one.” 

Helen smiled. 

“ Perhaps,” replied she. “ But where is Archy ? He was to 
have worked with me at those papers I promised to transcribe for 
papa this afternoon. Colin, you may as well help, for time glides 
away so quickly, and seven is the Priory dinner hour.” 

“ Archibald has gone to Stanmore to consult Colonel Sutherland 
about the purchase of ahorse. But come along, Helen, I am quite 
at your service,” said Colin, throwing aside his book. 

“ Helen, my dear, never mind those troublesome papers this 
afternoon,” cried Mrs. Campbell, earnestly. “I feel certain your 
father will not want them for some days hence. Stooping will 
make your head ache ” 

“And your nose red, Helen! I advise you to weigh well the 
tremendous consequences of appearing in such a plight before two 
mighty potentates like Lord Alresford and Sir Gerard Baynton,” 
cried Colin, laughing, as he followed his sister out of the room. 

Mrs. Campbell sat silently and intently plying her needle. 
Henrietta having at length accomplished her task closed the 


16 


PIQUE. 


book, and drawing forwards a low stool, took her work and seated 
herself opposite to her mother by the side of the open window ; 
and, carefully abstaining from the slightest movement likely to 
dispel the train of thought she knew the former loved to indulge, 
quietly beguiled the time with her stitches, every now and then 
wistfully gazing on the fragrant flower-beds in the garden beyond. 

“ Eeally, Henrietta, you quite exhaust my patience ! Look 
where the cat has dragged your beautiful bright wool,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Campbell, suddenly looking up, and directing her young 
daughter’s attention to the gambols of a fine Persian cat with her 
ball of amber worsted, which she had suffered to roll from her 
knee. “ This is so like one of your careless tricks, after your sis- 
ter’s trouble in selecting the wools for you! You cannot fancy 
that Mildred for whom you destine this little souvenir, will prize 
a dirty, faded cushion. Come hither, child ! I see the stitch is 
wrong. You always will persist in dragging the thread four times 
through the loops. Fetch the ball, and put it in your apron pocket. 
Now give me the crotchet-hook, and look ! ” 

Henrietta made no reply ; but after obeying her mother’s direc- 
tions, quietly reseated herself, and applied with renewed assiduity 
to her work. 

Mrs. Campbell also relapsed into silence, and continued her 
stitching with the utmost vigor. A quarter of an hour thus 
elapsed. 

“ I wonder whether Mrs. Daws has sent home Helen’s silk 
dress? ” at length said she; “ Henrietta, perhaps you can tell me?” 

“ I don’t know, mamma ; but I fancy when Helen and I were 
walking yesterday, and met Mrs. Daws, she apologized for not 
being able to send the dress home until next week, on account of 
having had mourning to make.” 

“ That is her invariable practice,” grumbled Mrs. Campbell. 
“ Milliners, when they have been negligent in attending to one’s 
orders, always excuse themselves on the plea of having had 
mourning to make, which could not by any possibility be delayed. 
I shall assuredly send a message to Daws this evening. I likd 
people to be punctual. Ah ! I see your brother is returned from 
Stanmore. I must go and hear how he succeeded with the Colonel, 
and also hurry Helen, for it is nearly six o’clock,” said Mrs. 
Campbell, rising from her chair, as her eldest son Archibald 
passed by the window on his way to the stable. 
r For a moment Henrietta let fall her work, and leaning forwards 
watched her mother’s quick step across the garden. Occasionally 
Mrs. Campbell paused in her progress to pick up a truant leaf or 


PIQUE. 


17 


straw, or to tie up tlie drooping blossoms of some favorite flower ; 
accidents her quick eye instantly detected, and her hand as speedily 
rectified, for it was one of her maxims never to defer to a future 
hour what might easily be accomplished in the present ; besides 
which, she had no idea that a walk, circumscribed even as one 
through the length and breadth of her own domain, although with 
a definite object at its end, should be profitless, or unmarked by 
any instance of that restless activity at once the business, and 
delight of her life. 

Mrs. Campbell was renowned throughout the neighborhood for 
the notable government of her household, over which, in all things, 
she ruled with undivided sway; as the mild, studious habits of 
Mr. Canipbeil made him, on every occasion, carefully abstain from 
interference with her projects, 01 from provoking the overwhelming 
flood of argument which she always poured out in their defence. 
Besides the well-being of her household, the future prospects of 
her children were ever subjects of Mrs. Campbell’s unceasing con- 
templation. The village of Greysdon was situated in the very 
heart of what is emphatically termed “ a good neighborhood ” ; 
and though the Campbells held a rank which usually, from strait- 
ened means and other causes, debars much social intercourse with 
the surrounding magnates, such was not their case, as Mr. Camp- 
bell's fortune was easy, if not comparatively affluent, independent 
of his profession. Besides which, it was generally known he had 
had several times the opportunity of rising to the ranks of the 
beneficed clergy ; but his attachment to Greysdon, and its vener- 
able Lector, ever influenced to induce him to decline any such 
overtures ; a decision his managing wife cordially approved, as she 
had good grounds for feeling a tolerable degree of certainty, that, 
on the decease of Mr. Northcote, it was the intention of Lord 
Elvaston, the patron of the living of Greysdon, to appoint her hus- 
band his successor. The powerful patronage of Lady Elvaston 
also not a little contributed to the almost universal popularity of 
the Campbells. Helen’s pure, thoughtful mind and gentle man- 
ners wrought upon Lady Elvaston irresistibly ; while the simple, 
yet truthful tone of her conversation, her unswerving avoidance 
of flattery were charms Mildred Effingham never could with- 
stand ; and she invariably turned with feelings of renewed delight 
and relief to Helen’s society, after companionship with most of the 
young ladies in the neighborhood whose pretensions were more on 
a level with her own. From the days, then, when Helen returned 
home from school for the holidays, and with feelings and demeanor 
half shy, half curious, though always self-possessed, paid her 
2 ° 


18 


PIQCJE. 


weekly visit to the school-room of Lord Elvaston’s young heiress, 
their attachment had gradually grown, and strengthened itself, 
until, at the period when our history begins, it was cordial, and 
familiar as that of sisters. 

The Campbells’ nearest county neighbors, nest to Lord Elvas- 
ton’s family, were the Tennysons of Settringham. Sir Richard 
Tennyson had just attained his majority, and inhabited the family 
mansion with his mother and sister. With a large fortune at his 
disposal, Sir Richard plunged wuh youthful ardor into the dissi- 
pated society amidst which evil chance, no less than inclination, 
led him. With no restraining hand to guide him in his choice of 
companions, his jovial college friends expounded, and contrived to 
inspire him with a deeper veneration for the mysteries of the 
chase, than for all the lore of Alma Mater. On attaining his ma- 
jority, therefore, he became master of the M shire hunt, and 

for six months of the year his table was crowded with sporting col- 
leagues — a society anything but improving to his young sister ; 
while he contrived to get through the remainder of the year by 
horse-racing, rowing, &c. ; at intervals, also, most obligingly risk- 
ing his own neck, and that of any good-natured friend, by occa- 
sional displays of prowess as a first-rate whip. Though Mrs. 
Campbell knew that hitherto dogs and horses were the charms, and 
sporting the object of Sir Richard Tennyson’s life, she had been 
worldly enough, some time previous to the commencement of our 
story, to scheme the capture of the Baronet’s hand for her daugh- 
ter ; especially as, at one period, Helen appeared the object of his 
unbounded admiration. This design she was, however, at length 
compelled reluctantly to forego, on account of Helen’s uncon cpier- 
ablc opposition, and Lady Elvaston’s marked disapproval ; for 
without the latter’s co-operation, she could scarcely hope to achieve 
the ambitious project. To get Helen speedily, and if possible, 
grandly married, was the aim of her life ; for, impetuous and ex- 
citable as was Mrs. Campbell, her mind was not so fitful and shal- 
low as her actions would often denote, and the troublesome con- 
sciousness would often intrude whenever she allowed herself to 
think that her daughter, not only by her close intimacy with Miss 
Effingham, but by the society this privilege entailed, was elevated 
out of her natural station in life ; and her solicitude was painfully 
aroused for the reaction which might afterwards ensue in Helen’s 
mind, should she fail to fix herself as a permanent star in her 
friend’s sphere. In fancy, Mrs. Campbell, with a mother’s anxiety, 
realized the discontent and secret disgust which probably would 
arise even in a mind well poised as Helen’s when lack of that poteni 


PIQUE. 


19 


passport to consideration — riches, should one day banish the lux- 
ury, refinement, and glitter of life, in which she at present so 
largely partook with her friend. Sir Gerard Baynton’s visit, how- 
ever, dispelled for the present these unpleasant forebodings. 
Many instances of his boyish partiality for Helen were recalled, 
and carefully pondered over ; and even in Mrs. Campbell’s brief 
walk down the garden, to judge by the unwonted animation of her 
countenance, imagination clothed her visions in brightest h les. 
Luckily, what Mrs. Campbell dreamed for the moment, she de- 
voutly believed would come to pass ; and as her mind assumed & 
corresponding serenity, curiously enough, her endless castles in the 
air added not a little to the tranquillity of her household. 

But to return from our digression — Henrietta still sat at her 
work, when her sister, arrayed for her expedition, looking fresh 
and blooming as a rose, entered the room. Presently Mrs. Camp- 
bell’s hurried step was heard in the passage. 

“ Helen, what have you got to fasten your berthe with in front, 
child? Ah, I see you are ready,” cried she, hastily opening the 
door. “ Your dress is very becoming,” continued Mrs. Campbell, 
complacently ; “ where did you get these beautiful flowers from ? ” 

“ Archy begged them somewhere during his ride this morning,” 
replied Helen. 

“ I suppose from old Mrs. Wedderbourne ; for he took Dorn ton 
on his road from Stanmore. Archy is gone to bring round the 
ponies, Helen, and intends to drive you to the Priory. Oh, here 
he comes,” cried she, going to the window. “ Archibald, let Sam 
hold the ponies, and come here a moment. I want him to tell 
you, dear, what Colonel Sutherland hinted about Miss Effingham. 
Tell your sister what the Colonel said respecting the Priory mar- 
riage, Archy,” exclaimed Mrs. Campbell, as her son entered the 
room. 

•* Oh, mother, nothing very important. He supposed only that 
the long-delayed match would soon come off; thought Mildred 
would make a most fascinating peeress, and inquired whether 
Alresford was jealous.” 

** Then he knew of her long engagement,” exclaimed Helen, 
reddening. 

“ Under all these nonchalant queries, however, I could detect a 
deep vein of melancholy. I am convinced Sutherland feels keenly 
his altered position ; and I wonder who the deuse would not, after 
being smiled upon by such a seraph as Mildred,” rejoined Archi- 
bald Campbell, warmly. 

Mrs. Campbell shook her head sagaciously. 


20 


riQUE. 


“We shall see ! I cannot imagine his magnificent lordship arm 
in arm with a coquette of a wife.” 

“ Come, Helen, unless you mean to fast to-day, we had better 
set off. The Earl’s travelling chariot entered the Binglcy lodge- 
gate, as I passed, two hours ago. Are you well wrapped up ? ” 

“ Fit to encounter the biting frosts of Siberia,” exclaimed Helen, 
laughing gayly, as she stepped into the carriage. 

“ Make my kind remembrances to Sir Gerard Baynton. Helen, 
and say what pleasure it will give mo to renew my acquaintance 
with him,” screamed Mr3. Campbell as the carriage whirled away. 


CHAPTER III. 

At a quarter past six, precisely, the modest equipage of the curate 
of Greysdon passed the Priory gates. As they drove through the 
beautiful park towards the mansion, Helen unconsciously sank into 
a deep fit of abstraction. She felt uncomfortable ; her heart mis- 
gave her, and all her anxiety and painful forebodings for Mildred 
returned in full force. Archibald laughingly rallied her several 
times on her gravity, and vowed she was meditating bow, siren- 
like, to lure some hapless victim to destruction under the potent 
fascination of her treacherous spells. Helen smiled, but her gayety 
did not revive ; and her brother vainly continued his banter, until 
they drew up before the door of the mansion. 

Helen lightly sprang from the carriage, and stood a moment 
under the porch. 

“You need not expect to see me again much before midnight,” 
exclaimed Archibald, gathering up the reins. “ Look, here are 
some of Lord Elvaston’s guests arriving,” added he, directing 
Helen’s attention to a low phaeton emerging from one of the park 
drives. “No; ’t is Lord Elvaston himself, and another gentle- 
man ! God bless you, my dear Helen ; do not let these fine people 
turn your little head ! ” 

Helen nodded saucily, then bounded across the hall and up the 
staircase, and hurried along, without encountering any one, towards 
Miss Effingham’s dressing-room. 

Just at the door, she met Aglae. 

“ Ah ! this is you Mademoiselle Campbell. Miss Effingham 
desire m« to wait here to see wedder I can be of sarvice to you.” 


PIQUE. 


21 


“ Where is Miss Effingham ? ” asked Helen, entering the room. 

“ Miss Effingham wish much to wait for you ; but miledi came 
and fetch her about tree quarters of an hour since. You are 
charming, mademoiselle!” continued Aglae, carefully divesting 
Helen of her numerous wrappers. “ Sit down, please, and let me 
arrange your hair a leetle ! Oh, my lord is so handsome, so noble ! 
Very much more handsome than monsieur le colonel ; mademoi- 
selle ought to be very happy. 

“ Well, Aglae, tell me, at what o’clock did Lord Alresford 
arrive? ” asked Helen, approaching Mildred’s luxurious toilette. 

“ His lordship arrive at about half-past tree.” 

“ And was Miss Effingham in the saloon ? ” 

“ No ; soon after you did leave, mademoiselle was seized with a 
most dreadful headache, looked so excessively pale and exhausted, 
that even miledi advise her go try and sleep, until it was time 
to dress. The Earl did stay with madame, talking in dc salon, 
while Sir Gerard went a drive with milord. Ah, Sir Gerard, 
mademoiselle ” 

“ Well, never mind Sir Gerard, Aglae. Is Miss Effingham bet- 
ter?” asked Helen, drawing on her gloves. 

“ Mademoiselle did take a teaspoonful of salvolatile, which made 
her better when she rise up about five. She was soon dress, but 
while I was combing her beautiful hair she was so sad and silent 
— I could not understand! Miledi presently came, and fetch her 
away, I tink to her own private room, but a few minutes afterwards 
I did see her descend to the salon, conducted by the Earl. Ah, 
mademoiselle, we French are so different! ” 

Helen nearly laughed outright at this pathetic lament, but 
Aglae was a favored and very privileged individual. 

“You laugh, mademoiselle. Cut I think it is time now for you 
to descend. Lady Elvaston say, she would explain why Miss Effing- 
ham did not wait ; ” — Helen already had divined — “ but you 
were to enter the salon by de private door of the boudoir, and she 
would be there to greet you, as she thought you would not like to 
make de grand entree alone. You will do very well, mademoiselle ! 
Ah, attendez ! ” cried she suddenly shutting the door she had 
opened for Helen s exit, “ attendez ! Sir Gerard is just descend- 
ing ! ” 

Helen retreated, and waited until she thought Sir Gerard had 
had time to establish himself comfortably below. She then went 
down, and with somewhat of a nervous sensation, it must be owned, 
opened the door of the boudoir and entered. This small apartment 
communicated by folding-doors with the saloon where the majority 


22 


PIQUE. 


of Lord Elvaston* s guests were assembled. Lady Elvaston, how- 
ever, according to her promise, was there ; and when Helen ap- 
peared, was standing in earnest conversation with a very handsome 
young man. Helen timidly paused, but in a minute Lady Elvas- 
ton came towards her. 

“ My dear Helen,” said she, in her low, soft voice, “ I am very 
glad to see you. Mildred has been anxiously expecting you for 
some time. I suppose Aglae delivered our message ? ” 

“ Yes. I feel much obliged by your kindness in waiting for me 
here, dear Lady Elvaston. I trust Mildred is better.” 

“ Yes, she is in the next room talking to Colonel Sutherland ; 
but before we go to her, I must introduce Sir Gerard Baynton. 
Sir Gerard, allow me to present you to Miss Campbell.” 

Sir Gerard bowed. Helen courtcsied, and immediately taking 
Lady Elvaston’ s arm, passed onwards into the drawing-room. 

Just in the door- way they met Lord Elvaston. 

“How are you, Helen? glad to see you,” said he, good-naturedly 
“ Hope Mr. and Mrs. Campbell are well; but where is my friend, 
Archibald? I fancied I caught a glimpse of him as we returned 
from our drive. 

Helen looked rather embarrassed ; for kind hearted as was Lord 
Elvaston, lie had a strange faculty for always saying things at the 
wrong time. 

“ Oh, thank you. I am sure it would have given my brother 
great pleasure to have accompanied me; but he only returned 
home from a long ride, just in time to drive me here,” replied 
she. 

“ Ah, indeed ! Archibald is a fine young fellow, and a great 
favorite of mine. Baynton, had you much shooting in France?” 
said Lord Elvaston, passing onwards. 

“ I am sorry you did not bring one of your brothers. In ray 
haste this morning, I forgot to request you to do so,” exclaimed 
Lady Elvaston, pausing an instant. “ But look at Mildred ! how 
very perverse of her to appear so monopolized with Colonel Suther- 
land. Such conduct must excite the Earl’s serious disj leasure, 
added to her ungracious reception of him this afternoon.” 

Miss Effingham sat rather apart on a low couch ; but the room 
was too thronged with guests, to make her position in any degree 
remarkable. Never had Helen seen her look more radiantly beau- 
tiful. She was reclining nonchalantly on the couch, and her soft 
check flushed as she raised her eyes to the face of Colonel Suther- 
land who, at the time Helen entered the room, was talking to 
her with great earnestness of manner. 


PIQUE. 


23 


‘‘Does she not look well this evening?” said Lady Elvaston. 
gazing proudly on her daughter ; and then she added in a slight 
accent of annoyance, — “How she can listen to that frivolous, 
superficial Colonel Sutherland, when she might, and ought to be 
conversing with Lord Alresford, does astonish me.” 

“’Tis an infatuation, dear Lady Elvaston, which Mildred’s 
good sense will speedily overcome,” replied Helen. 

“ Ah ! hut while shadowed by the delusion, she will lose the 
opportunity of fixing the esteem and attachment of a man, whom 
any woman might be proud to win. But now, Helen, I will intro- 
duce the Earl, and then leave you to make your way as you can 
amongst all these people,” said Lady Elvaston, beckoning to Lord 
Alresford, who immediately hastened to her side. 

Helen eagerly raised her eyes, and after an earnest gaze, which, 
brief as it was, called a smile on the Earl’s face, inwardly con- 
fessed Aglaii’s commendations were not overdrawn. Lord Alres- 
ford was tall, and his manner and carriage strikingly dignified, 
and self-possessed. As he approached, she was struck with the 
calm seriousness resting on his very handsome features, and in- 
voluntarily her eyes fell under the quick, penetrating look which 
met her own. Helen secretly gave Mildred more credit for cou- 
rageous daring than she had ever before awarded ; for there was 
a haughty firmness in the expression of his lordship’s features 
which seemed to defy contradiction. Lady Elvaston went through 
the accustomed forms of introduction, and then Helen was irre- 
sistibly captivated by the graceful bow and fascinating smile, im- 
parting quite an altered expression to his face ; though she still 
firmly believed him capable, when occasion needed, of penning 
those strict reprimands of which poor Mildred so bitterly com- 
plained. 

“ Miss Effingham has often mentioned Miss Campbell’s name, 
and always in terms of the warmest affection,” said Lord Alresford* 
courteously, glancing towards the spot where Mildred sat. 

Helen smiled, said a few words in reply, and as Lady Elvaston 
was summoned at this moment to receive other guests, she passed 
on to speak to her friend. 

“ Oh, Helen, I am so glad you are come,” cried Mildred, rising 
hastily, and stepping forwards to meet ner. “ Aglae, of course, 
explained why I did not wait for you. Ah, here come the 
Tennysons,” exclaimed she. suddenly, as the door ojtened. “For 
heaven’s sake, Helen, sit down quickly by me, or I shall become 
the victim of Clara’s sharp remarks. Stay ! I see mamma has 
just introduced Sir Gerard Baynton, so, perhaps, for the present. 


24 


PIQUE. 


she will be blind to the position of her dear friend,” said Miss 
Effingham, a disdainful smile curling her beautiful lip as she 
glanced on the towering figure of Miss Tennyson ; who followed 
her mother and brother into the room, and after exchanging a few 
words with Lady Elvaston threw herself back on a chair, and 
turning to Sir Gerard Baynton, who happened to be seated near, 
commenced a most fluent series of interrogatories. 

Sir Gerard at first appeared surprised, but in a few minutes 
apparently comprehending at once the peculiar characteristics ef 
his fair neighbor, entered with spirit into her humor. 

Miss Tennyson’s figure was commanding, and moulded on a 
large scale, and some there might be found who would even have 
pronounced her handsome, as she sat listening with animated face 
to Sir Gerard’s lively replies. Her complexion was sallow, a 
defect increased by the yellow tinge cast by the vivid lilac dress 
she wore, and her hair and eyes were dark. The expression of 
her face was too harsh and decided, and there was an abruptness 
in her gestures, and something brusque and imperious in the tone 
of her voice, the very reverse of feminine ; which seldom, on a 
first introduction, conveyed a flattering idea of her amiability, or 
gentleness of temper. Her eyebrows were black, and strongly 
marked ; her forehead low, and there was altogether a decided 
“throw off” in her manners and language, (especially in the cool- 
ness with which she uttered and maintained the most outrageous 
assertions,) that at times, to her intense satisfaction, drew all eyes 
upon her. 

Mildred, with a hasty gesture, took Helen’s hand and drew her 
to a seat beside her. 

“Will Miss Campbell allow me to wish her good-evening? ” 
said Colonel Sutherland, as Helen seated herself. “ Mr. Archibald 
Campbell was over at Stanmore this afternoon. Did you see him 
before you left home?” 

“ Yes,” replied Helen, in some surprise. 

“ Then, doubtless, you know of our expedition to Burton’s Mews, 
and that we have nearly purchased for you the little bay mare 
you admired so much, which Miss Tennyson rode last winter. 
She is to be sent to Greysdon to-morrow morning on a fortnight’s 
trial. I hope you will still admire her.” 

“No, indeed; he never told me about it. Dear Archy, how 
kind and generous! ” exclaimed Helen. 

“ How delightful, Helen,” cried Mildred ; “we can now ride to 
Fernly together I was just proposing some such expedition to 
Colonel Sutherland.” Mildred paused, — her color deepened as 


riQUE. 


25 


she caught the astonished expression of Helen’s eye ; she eon tin 
ued. however, with a light laugh, turning to the Colonel, “ .Really, 
you men have neither tact nor discretion. Could you not perceive, 
by Helen’s ignorance of her brother’s expedition, that Mr. Archi- 
bald Campbell was preparing a delicate surprise for his sister 
to-morrow morning, which you have quite frustrated by jour 
indi scree t revelation ? ” 

“ Upon my word, I sincerely beg Miss Campbell’s pardon, and 
can only marvel at her brother’s fortitude. Had I a sister only 
half as fair, my heroism would have succumbed, and I should 
have told all before I had been in her presence ten minutes.” 

“Just what 1 should have divined,” exclaimed Mildred, laugh- 
ing. “ For the satisfaction of a momentary impulse, you would 
pitilessly destroy the more perfect gratification of a future hour. 

“ ’T is a defect, I acknowledge ; but my disposition never suffers 
me to put restraint on present feelings for the sake of a future 
Besides, we men can never hope to equal the exquisite tact and 
delicacy of women in conferring a favor ; we can but appreciate, 
and, as a poor acknowledgment, offer devoted homage,” rejoined 
the Colonel, in a low voice, while his eye rested on the glowing 
japonicas twined in Mildred’s hair. 

Miss Effingham’s cheek flushed, while Helen unconsciously 
retreated as far as she could towards the end of the sofa. 

“Yes; but I am persuaded if people would take things literally 
as they are, without ever perpetually diving and seeking for hidden 
meanings and motives, half the miscon options which daily arise 
might be averted,” observed Mildred, languidly. 

“ Ah ; but if everything were taken literally, where would 
friendship — society — be? You know we are constantly having 
the disagreeable truth impressed upon us that this is an age of 
irony and insincere profession. However, at times the world finds 
me sceptical enough on some subjects: for instance, I sturdily 
refused until yesterday to give credence to the report that you 
were engaged to Lord Alresford. His lordship’s visit was a very 
sudden one, was it not? ” 

“ Very.” 

“I was amazed beyond expression when I heard of the Earl’s 
arrival at the Priory,” persisted the Colonel, fixing his eyes earn- 
estly on her face. 

“You could not have been more astonished lhan myself,” re- 
sponded Miss Effingham, haughtily, throwing herself back on th« 
couch. 

“ Is it possible ? ” 

& 


26 


PIQUE. 


Helen, who now and then caught a word, was in agony. She 
resolved, however, to make a desperate effort to put an end to it. 

“ Mildred !” exclaimed she, suddenly, “ I want to hear all you 
know about the grand ball at Dornton Park next month. Archi- 
bald called, on his road to Stanmore, and found Mrs. Wetlder- 
bourne deep in the mysteries of colored lamps, festoons, and 
garlands.” 

“ Why, Helen, I never remember your curiosity so strongly 
excited about a ball before. However, yonder sits Miss Vincent, 
Mrs. Wedderbourne’s niece, talking to Sir Kichard Tennyson, and 
T dare say she will only be too happy to give you every detail 
after dinner,” replied Mildred, recklessly turning again towards 
the Colonel. 

“ I have not yet wished that every felicity may attend yo ar 
union with Lord Alresford, Miss Effingham. May I not con- 
gratulate you?” resumed Colonel Sutherland, in a deep, earnest 
voice. 

“Oh, certainly! When a thing is inevitable, it is best policy 
to take everybody’s congratulations in good part, and not pause to 
analyze one’s own feelings too closely,” replied Mildred, looking 
down and commencing a most ruthless attack on her bouquet. 
“You remember the old adage, Colonel Sutherland, — what cannot 
be cured — . . . . Apropos , did you know a cousin of Sir Gerard 
Bayn ton’s is about to join your regiment?” 

Helen’s cheeks burned. Meditating a speedy retreat, she gazed 
uncomfortably around, when, to her unspeakable consternation, 
she beheld Lord Alresford standing so close behind Mildred that 
he could scarcely fail to have heard her last observation. She 
glanced again at her, and beheld her occupied as ever with the 
Colonel, totally unconscious of the eyes so earnestly bent upon 
her. Helen arose, and moved towards a table, hoping thus to at- 
tract her attention, and took up one of those small, highly colored 
engravings of Swiss scenery, so frequently brought home by 
tourists for the edification of their untravelled friends. 

“ This coarsely executed print, Miss Campbell, can give you 
but a very feeble conception of the sublime beauty of Grindeb 
wald,” said Lord Alresford, crossing over to the table near whic> 
she stood. 

Helen was astonished. She stole a glance at the Earl’s face ; 
the expression of his eye was severe, yet a smile hung on hie 
lip, and she marvelled at the self-possession of his language and 
manner. 

“ Yes ; I feel that the stupendous scenery of Switzerland must 


PIQUE. 


27 


be seen to be appreciated,” replied she, scarcely knowing what she 
said, as Lord Alresford took the print from her hands. 

“ The superfluous waters of the lake or. the summit of Grindel- 
wald, flowing down the mountain fron this glacier, — stupendous 
peaks of glistening ice, piled one above another some thirty or 
forty feet high ; I can scarcely describe the dazzling effect of the 
sun’s rays, or the gorgeous hues which sparkle around the tower- 
ing pyramids as they gradually decrease, and slope to the fertile 
valley at the base of the mountain. But have you never been 
abroad, Miss Campbell ? ” 

“ Never.” 

“ Ah, I suppose you have been too happy — too content with 
home, and its endearing ties, to wander in search of foreign 
adventure.” Lord Alresford paused, and then resumed after a 
brief space. “ My Swiss tour furnishes me with more pleasing 
reminiscences than any of my past years of travel, enhanced as it 
was by the companionship of Lord Willingham and his accom- 
plished daughter the Lady Catherine Neville.” 

“ Lady Catherine excels in painting and modelling, I under- 
stand.” 

“ Yes ; her pictures are beautifully finished. She studies daily 
from a small, but choice gallery of paintings, bequeathed by her 
father at Wardour. Miss Effingham, likewise, possesses great 
talents in this delightful accomplishment, does she not ? ” 

“ Have you really never seen any of Mildred’s exquisite draw- 
ings ? I will request her permission to show you her portfolio , 
or, perhaps, I had better ask Lady Elvaston,” replied Helen, 
quickly looking round ; for she was growing jealous for Mildred’s 
sake. 

Lord Alresford made a hasty movement. Helen had not time 
to ascertain whether it was one of approval or dissent, when dinner 
was announced; and in a few seconds she found herself traversing 
the spacious hall, arm in arm with Mr. Northcote, the worthy 
Rector of Greysdon. 

“I do not know what your opinion is, Miss Campbell, 1 ut 1 
think our affianced appear the reverse of enchanted with each 
other tbis evening,” said Mr. Northcote, laughingly, in a whisper. 

“ Mildred is indisposed,” replied Helen, evasively. 

“ Indeed ! I protest I never remember seeing her look more 
blooming than she appears to-night. Between ourselves. Miss 
Campbell, as a friend of the Elvastons, I regret that chattering 
blockhead, Sutherland, make3 one of our party.” 

* Hush ! ” exclaimed Helen, in a voice of entreaty, as they 
entered the dining-room. 


28 


PIQUE. 


“ But how comes it I have the honor of handing down so fail 
a damsel ? ” said the worthy Hector, as they took their seats at 
table. “ Let me see how Lady Elvaston has disposed of her 
beaux. I perceive Sir liichard Tennyson has led out my littlo 
friend Mildred,” continued Mr. Northcotc, in a low tone of voice, 
meant expressly for Helen’s ear, “ and Sutherland sits next to 
Clara Tennyson. Humph ! they are well matched, and may lead 
each other a hot chase which shall talk the longest string of non- 
sense during the hour they are compelled to play the agreeable. 
Sir Gerard is trying to make out from little simpering Miss Vin- 
cent, whether she will eat fish or sip soup ; and yonder sits Lord 
Alresford by the side of our graceful hostess, talking with the 
utmost vivacity. I am not sure, Helen, which he admires most 
— the mother, or the daughter. But what will you take ? ” 
exclaimed Mr. Northcote ; his soliloquy being suddenly brought 
to a close by a servant placing a plate of fish before him. 

“ I have finished my soup whilst you have been entertaining 
me with your observations,” replied Helen, laughingly. 

Mr Northcote continued for some minutes silently to make up 
for lost time, and Helen, having nothing to divert her attention, 
leisurely surveyed the party. Her eyes rested on Mildred She 
was reclining back in her chair, and her air and manner bespoke 
haughty indifference, as she replied to Sir Bichard Tennyson’s 
voluble speeches by cold monosyllables ; her soft cheek glowed, 
and there was a restless glitter in her eye, so very opposite to her 
usual self-possessed demeanor, that Helen was amazed. Mildred’s 
glance frequently rested on Colonel Sutherland and Miss Tenny- 
son, who appeared resolved to realize the Hector’s good-humored 
badinage, and were talking as if their very existence depended on 
the present moment ; and then it flitted again from them, and 
centred on Lord Alresford. Once their eyes met ; Mildred’s 
cheek glowed more vividly still, but she immediately turned her 
head away, and made some, short remark to the Baronet. Helen 
saw the effort this struggle for self-command cost her, and was 
right glad when after another tedious half hour at dessert, Lady 
Elvaston arose, and with her lady guests retired. 

Miss Effingham, however, on quitting the dining-room, seemed 
resolved not to interchange a word with her friend ; but, linking 
her arm through Miss Vincent’s, proceeded towards the conser- 
vatory. 

“ How delightfully cool and refreshing this place is 1 I do so 
detest dinner-parties ! ” exclaimed she, almost pettishly, stooping 
to inhale the fragrance of a magnificent cape jessamine. 


PIQUE. 


29 


“ "Do you ? I think it all depends upon one’s neighbors,” replied 
Mis* Vincent, slightly coloring. 

“ [ hope yours, this evening, proved themselves agreeable ? ” 
askel Mildred, quickly, fixing her large, earnest eyes on Miss 
Vincent's face, 

“Oh yes; Colonel Sutherland always contrives to make him- 
self agreeable. But do you know I really felt for him to-day, for 
we all know how much he admires you, Mildred.” 

“ Does he ? Perhaps he admires the Priory entertainments a3 
much, or more.” 

“ Possibly ; men of the present age are so insincere. Did you 
ever hear the strange report, that Colonel Sutherland is engaged 
to marry one of the Miss Conways ? I do not hesitate to repeat 
this now to you, Mildred, as of course your flirtation with him 
never could have been serious.” 

Miss Effingham’s brow flushed. 

“ Colonel Sutherland could scarcely have been so long in this 
neighborhood, partaking of our hospitality, without avowing an 
engagement every way so honorable to him as one with Lord 
Normanton’s sister,” replied she, after a momentary pause. 

“ Nay,” rejoined Miss Vincent, shaking her little ringleted 
head, “ we were none of us so violently smitten as to render this 
step absolutely necessary. But what a fine, noble- looking man 
the Earl of Alresford is. You must suffer me to congratulate 
you, Mildred Amcsbury Park is such a magnificent old place, 
likewise. Aunt Wcddcrbourne went over the gardens last year, 
on her return from Hastings, and she says, in her opinion, Wind- 
sor Castle could scarcely compete with it. Ah, Mildred ! you 
will throw us all. aside with your wreath of orange-flowers to bind 
a Countess’s coronet on your brow. Wffiat a splendid avenir is 
opening for you ! ” 

“ Very,” exclaimed Mildred, turning away her head to hide 
the tears which gathered in her eyes. 

“ By-the-bve, don’t you think this brilliant yellow acaci‘a would 
make lovely festoons for the boudoir at Dornton on the night of our 
ball ? I must persuade aunt to adopt it,” cried Miss Vincent , paus- 
ing, and affectedly gathering a few tufts from the clusters of flowers 
spreading like a sheet of amber over the prickly foliage. Is Lord 
Alresford habitually so grave and haughty in his manner, Mildred ? 
I am certain l never should find courage to gainsay or contradict 
hir.i in the slightest matter ; but you have a more daring spirit 
than I am possessed of. Apropos . I want to ask you who a Lady 
Catherine Neville is. whom his Lordship talked so much about at 


30 


PIQUE. 


dinner with Lady Elvaston ? He seemed most enthusiastic in her 
praise Did you ever hear of her?” 

“ Certainly ; Lady Catherine is the only child of the late Lord 
Willingham, and a ward of the Earl’s,” replied Mildred, hurriedly. 
“ But here come Helen and Miss Tennyson, so we will take pos- 
session of this low couch, and you must tell us all about the 
preparations for your aunt’s ball ; who have received invitations ; 
in short, every particular,” exclaimed she, drawing the couch to 
the inner door of the conservatory, so as to command a view all 
over the drawing-room. “ I fear, Caroline, you will feel a draught 
from that open window. Had 1 not better close it ? ” 

“ Pray, do not for me. The evening breeze is most delicious, 
wafting towards us the odor of these fragrant parterres ! ” exclaimed 
Miss Vincent, affectedly. “ How beautifully Aglae makes Miss 
Effingham’s dresses! ” added she, turning to Helen, as Mildred, 
heedless of her disclaimer, quietly proceeded to close the slide. 

The cords of the pulley appeared, however, entangled ; for 
Mildred, after trying vainly for a few moments, eagerly beckoned 
to Helen. 

Miss Campbell was at her side instantly. 

“ Helen,” whispered she, while her lip quivered, “ if you love 
me, talk to those girls, and let them leave me in peace ! ” and 
Mildred hastily closed the window, and took a seat on the sofa 
between Miss Tennyson and Miss Vincent. 

In Miss Tennyson the latter found a very attentive auditor to 
her elaborate detail of the preparations for the much-talked-of ball. 
Miss Vincent was one of those young ladies who would consider 
existence a blank, and their colloquial powers at a very low ebb, 
but for the occasional excitement of such stirring event. It was, 
nevertheless, perfectly wonderful to hear Miss Vincent descant on 
the color of a ribbon, or the shape of a pin-cushion ; and the copi- 
ousness of her expletives on the interesting subject challenged a 
tribute to her ingenuity, if not to her persuasive powers. In a 
word, her mornings were wasted in frivolous trifles, which she put 
forth her best eloquence to prove the contrary ; and her evenings 
in sentimental languishing, which she fancied gave signal proof of 
intellectual superiority. Her person corresponded with her charac- 
ter ; her stature was low, and her complexion of that statue-like, 
sickly whiteness, which always conveys the impression of failing 
health ; her eyes were large, long, and of pale blue color, — cold 
and unmeaning in their expression, yet pronounced pretty by those 
who care only for shape and regularity of feature. There was 
no wairnth in her smile, no soul in her face ; her small, well-cut 


PIQUE. 


31 


lips revelled not in richness of hue, and when drawn tightly 
together, as was frequently the case, imparted an aspect of listless 
discontent to her features, — the only expression of which they 
seemed capable. Her hair was the sole natural ornament Misa 
\iucent might fearlessly claim; it floated round her face in a 
profusion of luxuriant ringlets of that pale golden color so verj 
uncommon ; but we are compelled to confess that, although nature 
had thus adorned her with tresses of a hue which generally har- 
monizes so well with the fresh, blooming tints of youth, yet in 
Miss Vincent they enhanced alone the colorless insipidity of her 
countenance. 

As Miss Vincent proceeded in her narrative, Helen occasionally 
threw in a few words ; but Mildred, under pretence of a violent 
headache, sat back and said nothing. Many significant glances 
passed between the two young ladies, and their conversation began 
rapidly to subside; but at length the drawing room door opened, 
and the gentlemen entered. Mildred started up, and passing into 
the room, commenced a most animated attack upon poor old Lady 
Tennyson, who, for lack of some such impetus, had been composing 
herself gradually down into a comfortable doze ; for Lady Elvas- 
ton, during this eventful evening, was too preoccupied to entertain 
her guests with her wonted vivacity. Lord Alresford quietly con- 
tinued his conversation with Mr Northcote, and did not even turn 
his eyes as Mildred’s graceful figure floated by. 

"I am sorry, ladies, to be obliged to announce the defection of 
one of our cavaliers,” said Lord Elvaston. “ Colonel Sutherland 
is obliged to return early to prepare a report for the Commission- 
ers, who are coming down to investigate a charge at the barracks, 
to-morrow.” 

“ What ! has Sutherland got into a scrape ? ” asked Sir Eichard 
Tennyson. 

“ Something of the kind ; but I don’t know the particulars. 
However, he takes it marvellously easy, so I suppose ’ t ia nothing 
very serious,” replied Lord Elvaston, carelessly, setting down his 
coffee-cup on the table. 

“ The inquiry is into the conduct of young Blakesley ; nothing 
at affecting Colonel Sutherland,” interposed Lady Tennyson, 
now fairly awake. “ By-the-bye, Miss Effingham,” continued she, 
rather maliciously, “Dick hears the regiment is ordered from 
Stanmore to some horrid place in the north. The Colonel is such 
a universal favorite, that I am sure there are many ladies, both 
old and young, in this neighborhood who will wear the willow on 
his departure. Do you not think so ? ” 


‘52 


PIQUE. 


Mildred’s beautiful brow slightly contracted. 

“Colonel Sutherland is good-natured and lively, therefore we 
shall all be sorry to lose his society, though of course you will 
especially feel it, Lady Tennyson, as he is so frequent a guest at 
Bettringham,” hastily interposed Lady Elvaston ; for at a glance 
she discovered that Lord Alresford, though now seemingly occu- 
pied with a volume of engravings, attentively watched Mildred’ s 
deportment. 

“ Yes/’ rejoined Lady Tennyson ; “ Dick has taken a monstrous 
fancy to the Colonel, and is always inviting him to Settringham, 
much oftener than either I or Clara approve. My daughter always 
declares the Colonel to be a strange compound of folly and affec- 
tation, and I perfectly agree with her.” 

This was more than Mildred could stand. 

“ You do, indeed, astonish me, Lady Tennyson,” rejoined she, 
with a touch of petulance in her tone and manner ; “and, though 
of course I am far from claiming a discernment profound as Miss 
Tennyson’s, I must confess I have always found Colonel Suther- 
land most entertaining and agreeable.” 

Lady Tennyson thought the tone of this retort rather per- 
emptory ; but, as Mildred was a countess elect, she made no 
reply. 

“ Do you think Clara would favor us with one of her songs? ” 
asked Mildred, after a short pause, in her usual sweet, gracious 
tones. “ I think I see her music yonder, — would your Lordship 
be kind enough to give it to me ? ” added she, addressing Lord 
Alresford. 

The Earl silently laid it before her. 

“ What a very handsome, distinguished-looking man Lord 
Alresford is! My dear, I beg to congratulate you on your con- 
quest,” whispered Lady Tennyson, loud enough for the Earl to 
catch distinctly every syllable she uttered. 

Sir Gerard Baynton, meanwhile, made his way to Helen’s side. 

“ Well, Miss Campbell, I must protest that your greeting of an 
old friend and acquaintance is excessively cool and distant,” said 
he, seating himself by her. “ Let me see, ’t is twelve years since we 
met ; but then we were capital friends, and I think our last nota- 
ble exploit together at Weldcn, lured by a tempting field of bloom- 
ing cowslips, was to wade across the little rivulet at the bottom of 
the park. Do you remember those happy old days ? ” 

“ Oh yes ; and this, and a great many other mischievous 
exploits, likewise,” cried Helen, laughing and blushing. 

“ Imagine, then, my disappointment, on returning from Eton 


PIQUE. 


33 


again at the holidays, to find my little playfellow flown ; and I 
never hear more of her until after the lapse of a dozen years, 
when, on a visit to Lord Elvaston, the door suddenly opens, and 
I am introduoed to a very demure, serious young lady, who turns 
out to be my former faithful ally, Helen Campbell, but who now 
will scarcely acknowledge me.” 

“ Really, Sir Gerard, your case is most pitiable ” 

“ "When Lady Elvaston assurcdTnc of your identity, I felt most 
aggrieved. Rut how is Mrs. Campbell ? I have a vivid recol- 
lection of her good-natured indulgence of the freaks of a wild 
school-boy. 

“ Mamma is quite well, I thank you.” 

“ And Mr. Campbell, and Archibald? I certainly intend to 
go and renew my acquaintance with them all to-morrow; but I 
hear you have now several more brothers and sisters.” 

“Only another brother and sister — Colin and Henrietta. 
Mamma often speaks of Lady Emily Baynton. I hope she is 
well ? ” 

“ My mother? Yes, I am thankful to say, she is quite well. 
She is still residing at the Chauntry ; for you know, Miss Camp- 
bell, for some years past 1 have been an inveterate wanderer ; and 
although I fear she must often find it very lonely, yet I am selfish 
enough to implore her to remain. I could not endure the thought 
of the place being deserted or neglected.” 

“ Indeed I do not wonder. 1 remember, child as I was, when 
we removed from Weldon, the vision of its lawns and magnificent 
woods haunted me long afterwards, contrasted with the very flat, 
ugly country in which our new abode was situated.” 

“ I trust we shall soon see you again in our neighborhood, for 
Amesbury Park is only about three miles from Chauntry. When 
Lady Alresford is installed there, we shall have most abundant 
material for forming a delightful society. I do not think she 
will complain of being dull when she comes to reside amongst us ; 
for all absent people, in dutiful consideration, are returning to 
their homes. r lhe famous Vernon suit has terminated in Tur- 
ville’s favor, and he is coming to take immediate possession of 
Nethercote. Lady Normantou and her daughters live at Morcton 
Place. Do you remember the Conways, Miss Campbell? ” 

“ 1 have a slight, though very slight, recollection of having seen 
them at the Chauntry, at one of Lady Emily’s juvenile fetes.” 

“ They are very near neighbors of ours, and Miss Conway is an 
especial favorite of my mother’s. Poor girl I I fear she has not 
a very happy home.” 


34 


PIQUE. 


“ I have always understood that Lady Normanton has a capri- 
cious and violent temper.” 

“ Yes ; and poor Maude, because she is amiable, and has a most 
angeliv. disposition, bears all the burden of her ladyship’s ill 
humor. Her sister Isabella is beautiful, unfeeling ; and, as I 
have watched her closely, I do not think I should be using too 
strong a term were I to add designing, also.” 

“ You are severe, Sir Gerard. I shall begin to be quite afraid 
of you,” cried Helen, playfully holding up her fan. “ Now, seri- 
ously, I want to ask you a question: — did you ever hear it 
reported that Miss Conway is engaged to marry Colonel Suther- 
land ? ” 

“Now you mention it, I certainly have heard such a report ; 
but I should think it utterly impossible, from what I know of 
Maude Conway’s character, that she could so honor the personage 
we have met here to-day. There are several totally distinct fam- 
ilies which bear the name of Sutherland.” 

“You think so?” 

Helen, nevertheless, still persisted in her secret belief that 
Colonel Sutherland was Miss Conway’s fiance. She next turned 
to a subject which gave her as much anxiety as the Colonel’s 
engagement. 

“ You have not mentioned the Lady Catherine Neville. Does 
she not reside somewhere in your neighborhood ? ” 

“ Y’es, et Wardour Court, a fine old mansion, five miles from 
Amesbury.” 

“Lady Catherine, I understand, has just returned from a long 
residence abroad. Of course, being Lord Alresford’s ward, she 
must be a friend of yours. Sir Gerard ; therefore, pray include her 
in your sketch of Mildred’s future neighbors.” 

“You are curious, Miss Campbell, I suppose, because she is 
Alresford’s ward,” replied Sir Gerard, laughing; “but I assure 
you she bears most reverential respect to her guardian ; for ’t is 
impossible to be intimately acquainted with Alresford without feel- 
ing one’s own inferiority in most things. Lady Catherine is beau- 
tiful, accomplished, and I have seen few women equally graceful 
and fascinating. Perhaps you know she is an orphan. L ord 
Willingham died a few months ago, and left her heiress of his 
immense estates. Wardour Court, as you will ere long acknowl- 
edge, is just the sort of place, with its dark woods, quaint gables, 
and gothic windows, for a being of Lady Catherine’s enthusiastic 
temperament to inhabit.” Jf 

“ You have now effectually excited my interest and curiosity, 


PIQUE. 


35 ' 

Sir Gerard. Tell me what are her pursuits ? Does she visit a 
great deal ? ” 

“ The Conways are her chief friends ; though I cannot fancy 
much congeniality between them — Maude Conway excepted. She 
often visits my mother ; but she has never recovered the shock of 
Lord Willingham’s death, and I understand at times her spirits 
are so depressed as to occasion great anxiety to Alresford, and 
indeed to all her friends. But really, Miss Campbell, you have 
lured me step by step, until I am becoming quite scandalous.” 

Helen longed to inquire a little more into Lady Catherine’s his 
tory, and especially on her relations with the Earl. She sat medi- 
tating upon what she had heard, until Sir Gerard drew her attention 
to Mildred, who was flitting from one young lady to another, in 
the hope of gaining a recruit for the piano ; Miss Tennyson hav- 
ing obligingly exhausted her supply of songs. 

“How beautiful Miss Effingham is! — but how restless and. 
excited she appears to-night!” exclaimed Sir Gerard. “I per? 
ceive, or rather suspect, that Alresford and she do not quite under- ■ 
stand each other yet. See, he is asking her to sing, which she 
.declines with the air of an empress. By-the-bve, I have dis- 
covered perversity is a very prominent trait in Miss Effingham’s 
character. Ami not right, Miss Campbell?” 

“No, indeed, Sir Gerard. Mildred is hasty and petulant, I 
grant, though never wilfully perverse,” rejoined Helen, warmly. 

“ Nay, then, what do you call this?” cried Sir Gerard, laugh- 
ing, as Mildred’s clear voice sounded through the room, while 
Sir Bichard Tennyson leaned nonchalantly beside her at the piano 
and turned the pages of her book. 

“I am very, very sorry,” exclaimed Helen, rising, and going 
towards the piano. 

At this moment Mr. Campbell’s carriage was announced. Miss 
Effingham hastily ran through the song, whilst Helen took leave 
of Lady Elvuston, who looked pale and unhappy, but extorted a 
promise from her, that she would spend the following few days at 
the Priory. Mildred then took her arm, and they quitted the 
drawing-room together. 

“Now, Helen, not a word ! I cannot bear it! I have been 
ma d — insane, to-night. Do not reproach me ! But if you care 
a straw for me, come to-morrow early, — as early as you can,” 
exclaimed Mildred, as they ascended the stairs. “ Will you 
come and take pity upon me, Helen ? ” and Miss Effingham’s lip 
quivered, as she paused before entering her dressing-room, where 
Aglae was waiting. 


36 


PIQUE. 


“I will, indeed, Mildred,” replied Helen, hastily, for tears non 
poured down Miss Effingham’s cheeks. “ Go down again, dearest, 
and make your peace with Lord Alresford. Oh, Mildred, if you do 
not, how much sorrow this evening’s petulance may cost you ! 
Delay not an instant.” 

“ I cannot. I shall not go down stairs again to-night. I am 
too wretched,” and she abruptly entered the room ; where, of 
course, Aglae’s presence prevented further argument. 

Helen then affectionately took leave of her, and in a few min- 
utes descended again. At the carriage she found Sir Gerard 
Baynton talking to her brother. 

“ So you see Miss Campbell, I could not resist greeting my old 
friend, Archibald,” said he, as he handed her in. “ Make my best 
compliments to Mrs. Campbell. I shall do myself the honor of 
waiting upon her, to-morrow. You will have a lovely drive 
through the park. Good-night.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

“ Well, Helen, how do you do, this morning? I hope the Eail 
and Sir Gerard Baynton made themselves agreeable, last night,” 
exclaimed Colin Campbell, throwing his arms round his sister’s 
neck, to the infinite damage of her snowy little collar, and giving 
her a hearty kiss as she entered the breakfast-room. 

“ Excessively so. We had a very large party.” 

“ And I should think a most agreeable one, likewise, judging 
from the time you stayed last night. Why, I sat up to hear how 
this grand affair went off, until positively my eyes began to close 
of themselves ; so I thought it best to make off. Come, Helen, 
tell me who Mildred’s mysterious knight resembles? ” 

“ I wish, Colin, you would allow your sister to eat her break- 
fast, instead of listening to your nonsense. Sit down, Helen, my 
dear ; hero is your coffee,” said Mrs. Campbell. 

“ And as I am sure also she must be hungry, after the fatigue 
of sitting up half the night, here is a roll for you to begin upon, 
Helen ; and see, I have gathered you a bunch of violets still spark- 
ling with dew-drops.” 

“Oh, how kind of you! But, Colin, you are growing quite 
romantic,” cried Helen, laughing, as she fastened the flowers in 
hei brooch. 


PIQUE. 


37 


“ But it would have been more romantic had Sir Geraid brought 
them. Ah, Helen, I do not despair.” 

“ I assure you, Colin, your sister found Sir Gerard Baynton very 
agreeable last night. He certainly paid her great attention, and 
6eeuied quite anxious to renew his acquaintance with us.” 

“ Oh, mamma, how your imagination magnifies the trifling con- 
versation I had with Sir Gerard,” replied Helen, slightly blushing. 
“It was so very natural he should be interested in hearing again 
of s: old and kind a friend as yourself.” 

“ Yes ; I am sure it will give me great pleasure to sec Sir 
Gerard again, and I trust you expressed as much, my dear. You 
said, did you not, that he spoke most enthusiastically of Lord 
Alresford? ” rejoined Mrs. Campbell, pouring out the coffee. 

“ Indeed, he spoke most highly and affectionately of his friend ; 
and, as far as outward appearances go, I never saw a finer or 
more intellectual face than the Earl’s.” 

“ Appearances are deceitful, my dear Helen ; and I can well 
imagine, if Mildred likes, and is silly enough to be entertained by 
the absurdities of Colonel Sutherland, that she would feel a kind 
of restraint in the society of such a man as Lord Alresford For 
my own part, I always considered his manners too frigid for so 
young a man. But I wonder where your father and Archibald 
are? Do, Colin, go out and see if they arc anywhere within hail. 
They generally take themselves off in this provoking way, and then 
complain that the coffee is cold.” 

“All right. Here they are, mother!” exclaimed Colin, drop- 
ping into his chair again, as Mr. Campbell and his son entered the 
room. 

Helm sprang forward to embrace her father. 

“ Well, Helen, I did not expect to see you down so soon this 
morning. -Had you a pleasant party last night? — and how did 
you like the Earl ? ” 

“ I cannot tell you, papa, how fascinated I was. To be sure I 
had not much conversation with him, and, perhaps, I am forming 
a hasty judgment ; but there is a quiet, high bred repose and dig- 
nity in his manner, which, were I in Mildred’s place, I should feel 
very attractive.” 

“ Yes ; he certainly has all this,” replied Mr. Campbell, drawing 
his chair to the table, “ and. what is more, a highly cultivated mind, 
also. Lord Alresford, or 1 am much mistaken, expects to find in 
the woman he marries, a sensible, intelligent companion, and not a 
frivolous, trifling doll, to be petted by adulation into good humor. 
But I think Mildred, with her beauty and talent, would suit him 
4 


38 


PIQfJE. 


admirably, could she get rid of her absuid penchant for Colonel 
Sutherland. I trust, Helen, she had good sense euough, yester- 
day evening, to show him that from henceforth all this nonsensical 
partiality must forever be cast aside.” 

“ Do not ask me a single word about Mildred’s conduct last 
night,” rejoined Helen, earnestly. “ All I trust is, that Lord 
Elvaston will have the good sense never more to invite Colonel 
Sutherland — at least, if this marriage is to be.” 

“Which is very doubtful, in my opinion,” interposed Mrs. 
Campbell. “ It is quite marvellous how some people will persist 
in running counter to their good fortune. Mildred’s conduct in 
this affair appears to me deliberate insanity ! Here she is sought 
by a nobleman of princely fortune, handsome, talented, and I sup- 
pose attached to her, or he would not put up with her megrims ; 
and all thi 3 she is ready to reject for the sake of a chattering popin- 
jay of a Colonel of Dragoons ! I should like much to discover 
what first induced Lord Alresford to engage himself to her. Do 
you know, Helen ? ” 

“ My dear, you must allow Mildred to have her secrets like 
other people, and if she chooses to confide them to Helen, we 
should not ask her to betray what she evidently has no right to' 
do,” interposed Mr. Campbell. 

“ At any rate, Helen, I never saw Mildred look more radiantly 
beautiful than last night. I was waiting for you in the morning- 
room when you both passed, but talking so earnestly, that neither 
of you saw me. I suppose it was about the Colonel, for Mildred’s 
fair cheek glowed like the flowers in her hair. All I have to say 
is, that if the Earl can long withstand the influence of her sunny 
smile, he must be made of stone, and, therefore, not worthy to 
possess her. I wish she had been engaged to Sir Gerard Bayn- 
ton ! ” exclaimed Archibald Campbell. 

“ Mildred will presently come to her senses,” observed Mr 
Campbell; “at present she is prejudiced and — shall I let you 
into a profound secret? — a little jealous of the Lady Catherine 
Neville.” 

“ Lady Catherine Neville ! What could put such an idea into 
your head, my dear? Mildred, indeed, would have a formidable 
rival, if Lady Catherine’s beauty is at all comparable to what it 
was when we left Weldon; for a more lovely, interesting child I 
never met with. Poor thing! she lived almost the life of a nun in 
that dismal Ward our Court ; her only companion a Mrs. Otway, to 
whom Lady Willingham, on her death-bed, committed her daugh- 
ter’s education. Lord Willingham shut himself up after his wife’s 


PIQUE. 


39 


death and was seen by none, — no, not even by bis steward, — 
for upwards of two years. I wonder whether Mrs. Otway is still 
alive, and living at Wardour Court.” 

“ I do not believe Mildred would condescend to be jealous of 
Lady Catherine Neville, or of anybody else. She must be too 
conscious of her own worth. *T is strange how sometimes the 
greatest treasures are bestowed on people who do not value them! ” 
exclaimed Archibald. 

“ Nay, I think there is a great deal 6f truth in papa’s remark. 
Did you know that Lady Catherine has an aunt married to some 
Italian nobleman, which perhaps explains her long residence 
abroad?” asked Helen. 

Mr. Campbell was about to reply, but his wife interposing, ho 
smiled, and quietly allowed her to proceed. 

“ To be sure, Helen. Lady Willingham was a daughter of the 
late Marquis of Lulworth.” 

“ Well, Helen, how did you like Sir Gerard?” asked Archibald 
Campbell. “ Is he not a fine, agreeable fellow?” 

“ I found him most amusing and lively. He admired dear 
Mildred excessively.” 

“ And, I should think, is far better suited to her than the 
Earl,” rejoined Archibald Campbell. 

“ Sir Gerard seems to possess a gay, easy kind of disposition, 
and if pride does slumber beneath, ’t is not the least bit apparent. 
Lord Alresford’s fault, I should say, is haughty inflexibility of 
temper. Were I Mildred, I should be proud to have won such *a 
man ; but I do not yet know sufficient of his character to say 
whether I ever coujd love him.” 

“ So upon the whole I perceive you favor the Earl, Helen. 
What a little fool Mildred must be to behave so badly ; that is, if 
she intends to marry him,” said Colin. 

“ So, I fear only under rude discipline will our friend at length, 
learn wisdom,” observed Mr. Campbell. “ I think your mother 
said something last night about your going to stay at the Priory. 
When do you go, Helen?” added he, after a short pause. 

“ I promised to go to-day.” 

“ I should have been dreadfully chagrined at this engagement 
last night, Helen ; for Sutherland and myself went to look at the 
mare you admired so much, when ridden last winter by Miss 
Tennyson, and I had set my heart on your trying her this morn- 
in". However, Burton writes me word his groom has met with a 
bad accident, and consequently he cannot send her to Greysdon 
until to-morrow.” 


40 


PIQUE. 


“ Dear Archy, 1 really know not how to thank you enough ! 1 

feel sure I shall manage her capitally. She is such a beautiful, 
docile creature,” said Helen, with a bright smile. 

“ Well, Helen, you shall exhibit your horsemanship to-morrow, 
for Sir Gerard’s edification,” rejoined Archibald, rising from the 
break fast- table, and lounging towards the window. 

“What’s all this, Helen? Are you really going? What a 
bore! ” exclaimed Golin. “ I knew the people at the l’riory would 
disturb the quiet of our village.” 

“ I beg pardon, mother, here is a gentleman coming across the 
churchyard towards the house.” Mrs. Campbell started. “ He 
looks very like somebody 1 have seen before,” continued Archi- 
bald, gazing earnestly. “ Yes ; and ’t is no less a personage than 
Sir Gerard Baynton. I must go and meet him.” 

Mrs. Campbell closed the book immediately ; but, spite of her 
loquacity, she was really too well bred to appear confused or 
flurried. 

“ Helen, you are looking rather pale this morning ; go nearer 
the fire, my dear. Sir Gerard must have been very much struck 
with you, I am sure, to pay us so early a visit.” 

“Well, Helen, this is capital !” cried the incorrigible Colin. 
“ Mamma has already settled in her own mind that you are to be 
Lady Baynton. I trust your ladyship, when you come into pos- 
session of your mansion, the Chauntry, will grant me permission 
to shoot and fish as I will in your woods and lakes, and allow me 
the run of your stables. Stay! for this latter boon I think I had 
better remain and be introduced to my brother-in-law elect.” 

“ Hush hush. Colin ! ” exclaimed Mr. Campbell. 

“ Really, Colin, your tongue will be your ruin,” said Mrs. 
Campbell, sharply; piqued at having her secret projects so roughly 
disclosed ; “ but I must entreat you to reserve your jests for a 
more convenient season, as it will be hardly agreeable for your 
sister should they be overheard by Sir Gerard ” 

“I would not displease Helen for the world,” — began Colin, 
in more subdued accents, as Sir Gerard Baynton and Archibald 
Campbell made their appearance. 

“ Well, Mrs. Campbell,” exclaimed Sir Gerard, advancing and 
warmly extending his hand, “ I cannot express the pleasure it 
gives me to shake hands again with you, my former kind and 
indulgent friend. I fear, however, you will think my boyish 
freaks adhere as closely as ever, in timing my visit at this most 
umseasonable hour,” added he quickly, glancing at the breakfast 
table ; “ but Miss Campbell last night kindly led me to hope I 
should not be an unwelcome visitor.” 


riQUE. 


41 


~ Indeed, Sir Gerard, this meeting gives me more pleasure than 
I can express; it recalls the happy days spent at Weldon,” 
replied Mrs. Campbell, graciously. 

Sir Gerard then greeted Mr. Campbell ; was introduced to 
Colin ; made friends with Henrietta ; talked over the party again 
with Helen, and finally ensconced himself by Mrs. Campbell’s 
work-table ; and, in her skilful hands, was soon deep in the 
details of his own individual history, and of that of almost every 
personage of her acquaintance in the county of D shire. 

Helen, in the mean time remembering her promise to Mildred, 
quietly, stole out of the room, and commenced the necessary 
preparations for her visit When these were completed, having 
no desire for Sir Gerard’s escort to the Priory, she bade farewell 
to her father, who had retired to his study, and, leaving a message 
for Mrs. Campbell, set out alone. For some time she walked 
briskly along, yet, spite of her impatience to be with Mildred, the 
beauty of the day caused her gradually to slacken her speed. It 
was one of those lovely May mornings when the soft, fresh wind 
blows, laden with the growing fragrance of spring, and the vivid 
green foliage quivers and sparkles, as the bright sunbeams dart 
and flit amid its transparent intricacies. In the distance, the 
spires of the churches in the neighboring town of Stanmore cut 
clear against the deep azure sky, while behind, stretching in a 
long undulating line on the far horizon, the summits of the beau- 
tiful M shire hills, softened and dissolved themselves in a 

flood of radiant, golden haze. Every break in the thick trees 
skirting the road opened tempting zigzag paths, chequered with 
sunshine and shadow ; and every now and then a hare or rabbit 
scudded past, brushing away the sparkling dew-drops in its 
course, as it plunged into the blue depths of the wood. Helen 
felt cheered ; the bright face of nature, and the harmony which 
everywhere greeted her, as all around glowed and revelled under 
the fructifying sun, cast its reflex on her spirits, and made her 
feel more competent to the task of encouraging and fortifying 
Mildred’s good resolutions. 

Again she quickened her pace, and in less than half an hour 
found herself in the boudoir. Miss Effingham was seated on the 
sofa, her elbow leaning on the table, her head resting on her hand. 
She wore a loose wrapping-gown, and her beautiful hair was bound 
negligently round her head. A tray with her still untouched 
breakfast stood before her, though it was nearly one o’clock She 
started, and hastily turned her head as the door opened ; Helen 
saw that her cheek was very pale and dimmed with tears. 


42 


PIQUE. 


“ Dear, dear Helen, you have come at last; I have been count- 
ing every second in anxious expectation,” cried she, as she arose 
and Hung her arms round Helen’s neck, and sobbed convulsively. 

“ Mildred, what has happened since we parted?” asked Helen, 
earnestly, alarmed at her excessive agitation. “ Have you seen 
Lord Alresford this morning?” 

“ No: but I have heard from him,” exclaimed Mildred, point- 
ing to an open letter on the sofa; and her tears gushed forth 
again. “ Helen, I must have been insane yesterday evening ! ” 

“ My poor Mildred, had you but listened to my advice, — however, 
this may easily be repaired. Let me summon Lady Elvaston.” 

“ Helen, you mistake me. I never can love Lord Alresford : 
never, never ! therefore, though I may regret the mode in which I 
suffered my dislike to manifest itself, 1 cannot repent t.he impres- 
sion created. This dreadful engagement will be the bane of my 
existence. Oh, Helen ! parents have no right to hang such griev- 
ous burdens on their children. I cannot endure to contemplate 
the future, and 1 tremble at the responsibility of becoming the 
wife of such a man as Alresford: — one whose standard is so high, 
and who despises me ! ” said Miss Effingham, rapidly. 

“ This strange fancy seems to haunt you ; though I am con- 
vinced it is a groundless one, and now I am able to say so from 
personal observation, Mildred. Who can have insinuated such 
doubts into your mind ? Is it Colonel Sutherland ? ” asked Helen, 
boldly, resolved to probe to the very bottom of the wound. 

“ Sutherland has scarcely ever breathed Lord Alrcsford’s name.” 

“ lieally ! when the whole country has been ringing with the 
report of your engagement to Lord Alresford, yet Colonel Suther- 
land, whom it most concerned, never took the trouble to ascertain 
its truth ! ” rejoined Helen, indignantly. 

“Yet, Helen, t is nothing but the knowledge of this fatal >e- 
trothal which prevents him from declaring Mmself. 1 am sure he 
loves me! Helen, you think me weak, foolish, — but you foiget 
that the whole happiness of my life depends on the events of the 
next few days. Did you not perceive Sutherland’s distress last 
night?” and she fixed her eyes earnestly, almost beseechingly, on 
Helen’s face. 

“ No, Mildred, 1 did not discover any such symptom. B*;ar 
with me, and suffer me to tell you my real sentiments,” continued 
she, as Mildred turned away. “ My firm belief is, that were you 
this moment free from your engagement, Colonel Sutherland would 
not ask you to become his wife. He could not, — he dare not; 
for, I am persuaded, he is engaged to Miss Conway ! *’ 


PIQUE. 


43 


“ Never will I believe it from any lips but his own. He could 
*H)t be so base ! ” exclaimed Mildred, passionately. 

“ But, Mildred, consider, — are you not guilty of the very same 
outrage towards Lord Alresford ? ” 

“ Lord Alresford is devoted heart and soul to Lady Catherine 
Neville.” 

“ Have you his own warrant for this assertion ?” 

“ Helen, you torture me. Is it not apparent in every word he 
otters, — every line he writes ? ” 

“ No,” replied Helen, calmly. 

“ Not, when in this very letter he gives me a week to consider, 
and decide definitively, whether I intend to become his wife ? A 
touching proof of affection, you must acknowledge, to be prepared 
to resign me so easily ! ” Helen gazed at her with amazement 
as she continued, with flushing check, — “ Yes ; and he affects, 
moreover, to treat me as capricious, childish, — when my ambition 
is to be lpved ardently, entirely, by the man I marry. In short, 
you may look as incredulous as you will, Helen, I must be loved 
as Edward Sutherland loves me.” 

A mournful smile curled Helen’s lip. 

“ But, Mildred, what if you find, as assuredly you will, that 
Colonel Sutherland, flattered by the notice of the beautiful, 
wealthy, and betrothed Miss Effingham, suffered himself to be 
betrayed into professions which, — I will not say as a man of 
honor, for that title, in my opinion, he has long forfeited, — but 
with a due regard to his reputation, he would not have hazarded, 
could he have guessed the unsettled state of your affections.” 

“ I shall say, if falsehood be permitted thus to mar the fairest 
portions of one’s life, there is nothing worth living for in this 
world,” said Mildred, despondingly, covering her face with her 
hands. 

‘•You are exhausted and excited, Mildred. You have not 
touched a morsel of breakfast. Do allow me to summon Aglae to 
bring some hot coffee, and then, dearest,” continued she, with a 
slight laugh, “ we will discuss what course it will be most prudent 
and politic for you to adopt.” 

“No, do not ring for Aglae. I cannot bear to see any one at 
present. I will eat some of this,” replied Mildred, languidly 
pulling a plate towards her. “ That story, Helen, about Miss 
Conway, I am persuaded is false. Caroline Vincent hinted some- 
thing of the kind yesterday. How humiliated I lelt that such a 
little stinging insect had power to annoy me for a moment ! ” 

“ But Mrs. Northeote, whom you cannot accuse of fabricating 
euch reports, told me so likewise.” 


44 


PIQUE. 


*• Ah, when once a scandal is current, it runs through the entire 
neighborhood ; and I dare say. good, simple Mrs. Northcote heard, 
and believes it profoundly. But, Helen, set your mind at rest; 
after the probationary week so condescendingly allotted by his 
lordship has expired, it is my firm resolve to confirm my engage* 
ment, and become in due time Countess of Alresford,” said Mil- 
dred, with a bitter smile. 

“ Oh, Mildred ! surely, surely not in your present frame of 
mind, and with your sentiments.” 

“ Yes, Helen, for mamma’s sake, I shall tear from my mind 
every remembrance of the past, and resign myself to my destiny. 
I cannot tell you how her behavior affected me last night. I could 
have worshipped her! She came to see me after you left; and. 
though I know my conduct must have made her miserable, — must 
have struck a dagger to her heart, not a reproach did she utter. 
She kissed me as tenderly as ever — though, Helen, before the 
Earl’s arrival yesterday we had a long conversation together ; and 
then, when I implored her to tell me, whether, in the event of this 
marriage going off, papa would accept of Lord Alresford’s renun- 
ciation of the property, should he generously urge it, after trying 
to evade my question for some time, she reluctantly replied in the 
negative ; adding, that if my marriage did not annul the obliga- 
•tion, nothin'^: could induce papa to alter his determination.” 

“ Then, Mildred, what could possess you to behave so impru- 
dently? Forgive me, if I speak plainly ; but Mildred! I implore 
you, act honorably — be yourself again ! Summon Lord Alresford 
immediately — his opinion ought to be more to you than the 
applause of the whole world — and seek a reconciliation,” ex- 
claimed Helen, earnestly ; tears trembling in her soft eyes as she 
laid her hand on Mildred’s arm. 

“ No, Helen ; ’t is not for me to shorten the probation his lord- 
ship chooses to impose. No! these days shall be spent in school, 
ing myself for my future destiny ; a yoke not to be lightly under- 
taken ; as you will confess after you have read the Earl’s fetter,” 
continued she, with a slight, nervous laugh. “ Besides, from 
Colonel Sutherland’s own lips will 1 learn the truth, or falsehood, 
of his reported engagement.” 

“ Of what use will this inquiry be ? — Dear, dear, Mildred ! I 
beseech you peril not again your good resolutions ! ” 

“ Use ! nay, surely, Helen, it will serve me as a good and most 
convincing moral lesson, if true. Now read the stern admonition 
of my future lord,” and she put the letter into Helen’s hand. 
“Stay, first tell me your opinion of the Earl — mind, your real 
opinion M 


PIQUE. 


45 


'* My opinion will be soon told. I think Lord Alresford one of 
the most fascinating and intellectual persons 1 have ever seen ; 
and, Mildred, it seems to me he is a man to whom any woman 
might speedily become passionately attached.” 

“ Yes, but he must love her first, and show it also. There is a 
kind of cool indifference in his manner, which to me is absolutely 
daunting. Oh, Helen! you are just the very wife to have suited 
him, with your calm, clear judgment, and self-possession. I wish 
he had chosen you. But read the letter, dearest.” 

Miss Effingham threw herself back on the sofa. Helen drew 
the note from its envelope ; its purport was as follows: — 

“ I conclude, after the events of yesterday evening, it will not af- 
ford you much surprise to receive this early communication from me. 
I write not, Miss Effingham, however, to reproach you ; for if your 
good feeling and delicacy have not already convinced you of the 
impropriety, and (pardon me if I add) levity, of your past con- 
duct, any argument I could use must be powerless, though, prob- 
ably, as you are well aware of my sentiments on most subjects, 
the expression of my unqualified disapproval will be only what 
you anticipated. ’T is true, our inclinations arc not at our com- 
mand ; God forbid ! that I should seek to constrain yours ; but 
our duty is always clear, and though I am disposed to make every 
allowance for thoughtless caprice, I cannot submit to be trifled 
with, nor will I permit the woman publicly pledged to me to ren- 
der herself notorious. Your conscience, Mildred, must testify, by 
my forbearance under past and grievous provocation, that I seek 
you nc.t from motives of expediency ; and that these sentiments 
are still dominant, I trust I maybe able to prove to you. Despite, 
therefore, your cold — nay, I was about to write, insulting — recep- 
tion, after an absence of two years, I will not lightly yield the 
hand pledged to me. Take time to consider ; reflect dispassion- 
ately ; and if, at the conclusion of one week from the present 
period, you tell me you could be happier with another — you are 
free ! During this time I will so far constrain myself as to remain 
your father’s guest. Should you decide on confirming our engage- 
ment, I will not conceal from you that I expect, and shall require, 
my promised wife to conform in all essentials to those sentiments 
and opinions she has so frequently heard me express. If, on the 
contrary, you decide on the rupture of our engagement, I need 
scarcely assure you that I will assume the whole responsibility, 
and break the matter to Lord Elvaston. 

“ Believe me yours, very faithfully, 

“ Alresfobd.” 


4(3 


PIQUE. 


“Well, Helen, what do you say to this? His lordship, you 
will agree, is not sparing of his censure. I acknowledge I deserve 
all and everything he says ; yet such rebukes, though they doubt- 
less convict, seldom propitiate,” said Mildred, her beautiful lip 
curling with anger. 

“It is severe, I allow ; and evidently written under the influ- 
ence of wounded feeling. But Mildred, a stranger totally unac- 
quainted with your principles would consider this result as the 
very thing you were aiming at last night, — to disgust Lord Alres- 
ford, and incite him to release you from your promise.” 

“ This from you, Helen ! ” exclaimed Mildred, reddening. 

“ Suppose the Earl overheard, as I did, your conversation with 
Colonel Sutherland ? ” 

Miss Effingham started. 

“No, Helen ; I will not suppose such a thing. He could then 
never forgive me,” cried she, shuddering. “ How rash I must 
have been, knowing my future fate was in his hands ! Oh ! why 
did he ever go to Italy? Now, Helen, give me your advice ; what 
shall I do?” 

“ Why l have already told you,” replied Helen, smiling. “ If 
you intend to marry Lord Alresford, it would be lar more amiable 
and gracious to terminate his suspense at once, and beg him to for- 
get that he ever saw you to so little advantage as yesterday evening. 
I regretted very much, when I heard from Aglae you were *tao unwell 
to receive his lordship. How did it happen, Mildred ? ” 

“ I was too much overpowered with my conversation with dear 
mamma; and when the Earl arrived, to tell you the truth, I was 
indulging in a hearty good fit of crying.” 

“ But afterwards? ” 

“ Well, afterwards, mamma came for me, and I had an interview 
of a few minutes with the Earl in her dressing-room ; and then we 
went down into the drawing-room together,” replied Miss Effing- 
ham, evasively. 

“ But was not Lord Alresford’s greeting kind? ” 

“ How curious you are, Helen ! Oh, yes ! very. I believe he 
kissed my check, and said something about his happiness at being 
with me again ; or a speech to that purport; but I forget.” 

“ And what did you say, Mildred? ” 

“ Really, Helen, I cannot bind myself to repeat correctly every 
word that passed. I think I thanked his lordship very properly 
for the compliment,” replied Miss Effingham, with affected non- 
chalance, twisting the tassels of the cord which confined her robe- 
de-cham bre. 


PIQUE. 


47 


“ What! Was this all ? ” 

“ All ! What would you have more ? ” She stopped and col- 
ored, as she caught Helen’s eye. “ No ; I will not aggravate 
my omissions by this trifling. I confess I did not receive Lord 
Alresford as he had a right to expect. But Helen, dear, leave 
me awhile now, for I think I had better finish my toilette and 
go down to lunch ; and then you shall see I will demean myself 
so beautifully that the Earl shall be filled with amazement at the 
success of his eloquence,” said she with a faint laugh. “ Come, 
let me first show you your room. Among ray many blessings, Helen, 
I am sure I ought to thank God for giving me a dear, kind, sincere 
friend, like yourself,” said Miss Effingham, as she linked her arm 
through Helen’s and they proceeded together down the gallery. 

“ You see you are not a very great way from me ; but Helen, as 
soon as you can, pray go down and cheer dear mamma,” exclaimed 
Mildred, as she threw open the door of a pretty, cheerful room, with 
a snowy toilette, and curtains and hangings of bright, flowery 
chintz. 

“ I will go down stairs immediately.” 

“ Then, Helen, you advise me to send no written reply to the 
Earl’s charming billet?” said Mildred, unclosing the door again, 
and half entering the room. 

“ No ; far better let Lord Alresford read his answer in your 
altered demeanor. You will soon come down, Mildred, won’t 
you?” 

Miss Effingham nodded her pretty little head, sagaciously, and 
vanished. 


CHAPTER Y. 

Helen had been sitting alone with Lady Elvaston about half 
an hour when Mildred came down, looking worn and languid from 
mental agitation and a sleepless night. 

Lady Elvaston gazed anxiously in her daughter’s face, and her 
eyes followed her with a pained, thoughtful expression, as Mildred 
restlessly made the circuit of the room, and then pausing at the 
window, looked long and steadily without. She started it the 
sound of a step in the adjoining room, and, half turning round, 
glanced uneasily at the door. 

“ Sir Gerard went soon after breakfast to call upon Mrs. Camp- 


48 


PIQUE. 


bell, and, I suppose, is gone off on some expedition with. Archi- 
bald ; and Lord Alresford has accompanied your father to Stan- 
more,” hastily said Lady Elvaston, following her daughter’s 
glance. 

Mildred breathed a deep sigh of relief, and threw herself on a 
stool at her mother’s feet. 

“ Helen, what a beautiful cushion you are working. I never 
saw anything more glowing than these roses. You must finish it 
for me ; and when I sit in my drawing-room at Amcsbury. I shall 
gaze at it and think of all the dear ones I have left behind at 
Greysdon,” exclaimed Mildred, tears springing to her eyes. 

“ Nay, Mildred, I fear the frequency of our visits will afford 
you very brief intervals for such reminiscences,” replied Lady 
Elvaston, cheerfully. 

“ As we three are left to our own devices this afternoon, what 
shall we do, mamma ? ” said Mildred with a sigh, putting back 
the canvas on Helen’s knee. 

“ It. is now a quarter past two o’clock,” replied Lady Elvaston, 
glancing at the pendule. “ I thought we would either drive out, 
or walk, whichever you felt most inclined to do.” 

“ A drive, then. The air I think will do me good. Let us 
order the carriage at three, mamma, please.” 

The bell was accordingly rung, the carriage ordered, and then 
the three ladies, somewhat sadly, sat down to lunch. They had 
scarcely commenced, when the sound of carriage wheels on the 
gravel without brought a flush to Mildred’s cheeks. 

“ Our visitors, most probably, are the Farnleighs. I have been 
expecting them for some days past,” said Lady Elvaston. 

“No; it is the Tennysons’ carriage, I am sure,” exclaimed 
Helen Campbell, as a dashing, smalt-blue britzska and grays 
whirled past the windows. “ I caught a glimpse of Miss Tenny- 
son’s pink bonnet and feathers.” 

“ Poor Clara ! she always dresses to drive aboflt in the country, 
as she would for the Park in the height of the season. But what 
can bring her here again ? Helen, you must do all the talking 
for me, for I am not in spirits to cope with her gossip. What a 
pity Sir Gerard is not at home ! ” 

Miss Tennyson presently entered, and, though too much dressed 
for a country morning call, looked well ; for her figure was command- 
ing, and, conscious of her want of taste, she had the good sense to 
defer the selection of her toilette to her maid ; who, she took infi- 
nite pains to inform everybody, was a most accomplished artiste. 

“ Good-m)rning, Lady Elvaston. 1 dare say you are surprised 


PIQUE. 


49 


to see me again so soon. Mildred, I hope your headache is well 
this morning? I pitied you so much last night. Is it quite 
gone? How do you do, Miss Campbell?” exclaimed Miss Ten- 
nyson, in her usual thoughtless manner. 

“ Wc arc all tolerably well, thank you,” said Lady Elvaston, 
replying for the party. “ I trust Lady Tennyson was not fatigued 
last night ? ” 

“Oh dear, no, not in the least. She is gone with Sir Richard 
to drive in his new phaeton this afternoon, — a terribly imprudent 
thing, for Dick has changed his horses, and I am sure it will be a 
marvellous piece of luck if they both come home without broken 
bones.” 

“ 1 hope nothing so shocking will happen. Have you lunched, 
Clara, or will you take some with us?” 

“ Thank you, I shall be most happy. What a charming party 
we make ! It is sometimes so pleasant to get rid of the gentle- 
men ; one then can talk at ease without the slightest. restraint ; 
but, Mildred, I must confess I scarcely hoped for this gratification 
at the Priory to-day.” 

“ Sir Gerard Baynton is gone, I believe, to walk or ride with 
Mr. Archibald Campbell,” replied Miss Effingham, coldly. 

“ Indeed ! I. was not aware, until last night, Sir Gerard was an 
acquaintance of yours, Miss Campbell.” 

“ Perhaps you do not know that papa held the curacy of Weldon 
some years ago. I am very slightly acquainted with Sir Gerard 
Baynton.” 

“ Really. The Chauntry is a fine old place, I understand.” 

“ Very.” 

“ Somebody told me Lady Emily Baynton resides there, which, 
if true, I consider a great misfortune for Sir Gerard ; for when- 
ever mothers live with their sons, or maiden sisters with their 
brothers, the men are sure to draggle on existence old bachelors.” 

“ I wish Sir Gerard Baynton was here, Clara, instead of roam- 
ing no one knows where with Archibald Campbell, unconscious 
of your anxious solicitude for his welfare,” exclaimed Mildred, 
laughing. 

“ Kay, it is universally acknowledged, that widowed mothers, 
and maiden sisters, have prevented more matches than any other 
people in the world. I appeal to Lady Elvaston. * 

“ Have thej ? Indeed, Clara, I am not prepared to make so 
very sweeping an admission. May I give you a little more 
lunch?” 

“ Not any more, I thank you. It is all very ingenious of you, 


50 


PIQUE. 


Mildred, to turn the conversation so cleverly ; hut you kno r well 
Sir Gerard was not the personage I alluded to just now.” 

“ Lord Alresford is gone with Lord Elvaston to Stanmore, if it 
he to him you allude,” said Lady Elvaston, thinking it best to put 
an end at once to Miss Tennyson’s innuendoes. 

“ Indeed ! mamma and Dick wi'.l probably meet them, — that 
is, if these latter are not upset before they reach Stanmoie. Seri- 
ously, Mildred, I never saw any one so handsome and distin- 
guished-looking as Lord Alresford. He quite eclipses all the 
gentlemen in this neighborhood, as I was observing to Dick, as we 
drove home last night. No one can wonder at your preferring 
him, after all, to Colonel Sutherland.” 

Mildred writhed, and the blood suffused her temples. 

“If you have quite finished, Clara, we will go to the drawing- 
room, if you please,” said Lady Elvaston, rising hastily. 

“Certainly. I want to speak with you, Mildred,” cried Miss 
Tennyson, seizing Miss Effingham’s reluctant hand, and drawing it 
under her arm. “ I was as near as possible forgetting the object 
of my visit. Colonel Sutherland called very early this morning 
at Settringham, and said something about an excursion to Fcrnly 
Abbey, which you and he had not time fully to arrange yesterday 
evening. Mamma thought it such a charming project, that We 
agreed to form a party there the day after to-morrow, and 1 came 
to ask whether you and all your friends would join us. It is to 
be an equestrian pilgrimage ; and Sutherland seemed so very anx- 
ious, that I almost took upon myself to promise your acquiescence.” 

Mildred’s cheek became pale, and then flushed, and she studiously 
avoided her mother’s or Helen’s glance. 

“I am quite astonished to hear you advocate a plan of Colonel 
Sutherland’s, Clara. I understood he was most unpopular at 
Settringham, with all save Sir Richard,” replied she, with an 
effort. 

“ Did you ? Who could possibly have put such an idea into 
your head ? ” 

“ My authority was Lady Tennyson herself.” 

“ Very likely. Mamma does sometimes make the oddest asst* 
tions. Will you v ome ? ” 

I chink, Miss Tennyson, you must not urge Mildred ; she las 
been far from well during these few days past, and the exertion 
and excitement will be too much,” said Helen, gently. 

“ My dear Mildred, you surely will not think of going, exclaimed 
Lad 7 Elvaston, anxiously, alarmed at her daughter’s silence 

“ Ah, happiness oppresses sometimes more than misfortune.” as 


PIQUE. 


51 


Pascal, or Moliere, or some other great French moralist remarks,” 
observed Miss Tennyson, archly. “ But surely, dear Mildred, 
you will not suffer this to deprive us of the pleasure of your 
company on Friday ? ” 

“ My dear child ” 

“ Excuse me, mamma, it would be a great disappointment to 
me to miss this party ; therefore, if you have no objection, I will 
accept Clara’s invitation.” 

“ You must please yourself, Mildred,” replied Lady Elvaston, 
coldly. 

“Oh, charming ! Then I shall make quite sure of you, Mildred, 
and we will call for you en route . Mind and bring Lord Alres- 
ford and Sir Gerard. May we also hope to see you, Miss Camp- 
bell?” 

Helen hesitated. 

“ Helen, you must go, if it be only to try your new horse.” 

“ So Dick tells me. Miss Campbell, your brother has bought 
the mare I rode last autumn. She is a splendid creature, and 
will carry you admirably. Her only defect is, that she is rather 
hard in the mouth, and therefore difficult to check. Will you not 
join our Fernly expedition ? ” 

“ I cannot quite promise. If you will permit me to accept the 
invitation conditionally, I shall be most happy so to do,” said 
Helen, resolved to say neither yes, nor no, but to decide when the 
day arrived what would be most expedient for her to do. 

“ Oh, certainly, Miss Campbell. I trust the day may be clear, 
then we shall enjoy the fine view from the hill behind the Abbey. 
Apropos , I have been this morning to pay an early visit to Mrs. 
Wedderbourne, who wanted to consult me on the choice of decora- 
tions for the supper-room. Her ball will really be quite a splendid 
affair ; Jullien’s band, a supper from Gunter’s, the choicest flowers, 
and, above all, the old nabob Judge’s magnificent gold epergne and 
vases, we have all heard so much about, are to be taken from the 
mysterious cases in which they arrived from Calcutta, and employed 
to decorate the principal table.” 

“ Good, fussy Mrs. Wedderbourne should receive her guests 
under a canopy of silver damask, to make the scene complete. It 
would be kind in you, Clara, to hint this to her,” said Mildred, 
superciliously. 

“ Ah, I know you are quizzing me now ; but I must positively 
depart. M ay I ring for the carriage, Lady Elvaston ? ” 

Never was permission more gladly given. 

“ Caroline Vincent talked of connecting their conservatory with 


52 


PIQUE. 


the camellia house, and lighting them both with colored lamps ; 
but I quite put my veto on that project. 1 always consider it a 
great mistake to intermingle colored light with flowers ; it entirely 
spoils their hues, — don’t you think so, Miss Campbell ? ” 

“ I dare say it does,” replied Helen, without raising her eyes 
from her work ; “ but ” 

“ 1 know we all thought so at Settringham, when mamma gave 
her grand fete in honor of Dick’s coming of age. Then, decidedly, 
Mildred, we shall see you on Friday ; we must make the most of 
you during the short period you remain amougst us. I shall like 
of all things, however to be at your wedding, and then, after- 
wards, pay you a visit at Amesbury.” 

Miss Effingham glanced at Helen, amused at the very supposition 
of Lord Alresford being called upon to act the host to, and enter- 
tain a being so frivolous and loquacious. 

“ Of course, Clara, Mildred would be much concerned not to 
see you amongst her other friends at her wedding,” said Lady 
Elvaston. 

“ Indeed, I trust so. Here comes the carriage, so now, adieu ! ” 
cried Miss Tennyson, starting from her chair. “ We shall call 
for you about twelve on Friday, Mildred, and mamma intends to take 
a luncheon to spread on the grass under the ruins ; so you will not 
be alarmed, Lady Elvaston, if we return rather late. Miss Camp- 
bell, pray persuade your brothers to join us also ; the coup cTceil, 
when we are all gathered together, will be charming, and will 
remind one of a goodly cavalcade of olden days defiling down the 
hill to the Abbey gates. Good-bye ; pray make my kind remem- 
brances to Lord Elvaston ; ” and Miss Tennyson, after shaking 
hands round, and embracing Mildred, took her departure. 

“ Poor Clara ! I am almost ashamed to confess how great a 
relief her absence is. Helen, did you ever listen to such nonsense 
as her conversation ? And yet, poor girl, she is thoroughly 
well-meaning and good-natured,” exclaimed Miss Effingham, list- 
lessly. 

“ Yes ; Clara Tennyson was introduced very early into society, 
and suffered to take her own course, with a miserable education 
and unsettled principles. It is lamentable to think Lady Tenny- 
son’s weak, foolish fondness for her children has been productive 
of such lasting injury to them both,” said Lady Elvaston. 

“ I pity Clara sincerely, and have repeatedly tried to be of use to 
her. But come, Helen, dear, as we shall not improve Clara’s 
condition by lamenting over her deficiencies, let us go out and 
walk somewhere, as it is now too late to drive to-day.” exclaimed 
Mildred, playfully snatching the work from Helen’s hand. 


PIQUE. 


53 


'* Mildred,” exclaimed Lady Elvaston, earnestly, “ I trust you 
intend to consult Lord Alresford about this Fcrnly expedition. I 
cannot "express how uncomfortable it makes me. Be advised, my 
dear child, and give it up ; you could not go with any propriety 
without him, and I feel convinced he will decidedly refuse to meet 
Colonel S utherland. ’ ’ 

“ Mamma,” said Miss Effingham, throwing her arm around her 
mother’s neck, yo#s> will think me wicked, perverse ; but, once 
more, I must see Colonel Sutherland. I am firmly resolved to 
risk the interview. Do not grieve about it, dearest, dearest mam- 
ma ; indeed, this shall be my last act of rebellion. I must satisfy 
myself on one point, and you know not how much my future fate 
may depend on its issue. Come, Helen ! ” and Mildred, without 
once hazarding a glance in her mother’s face, seized Helen’s arm, 
and quitted the room. 


CHAPTER VI. 

When Miss Effingham and her friend entered the drawing- 
room, a few minutes before dinner, to Mildred’s unspeakable relief, 
they found no one down but Lord Elvaston, who, ensconced in a 
comfortable fauteuil, was reading the Times newspaper. Miss 
Effingham had not seen her father since the previous evening. He 
looked up as they entered. 

“ Good-morning, Miss Campbell. Well, Mildred, how do you 
do ? I hope a night’s repose and reflection have put to flight your 
strange caprices of yesterday. Upon my soul ! Mildred, I was 
perfectly astounded, and could not divine what possessed you. 
Your mother made some excuse for your non-appearance at the 
breakfast- table this morning ; but I never saw you look better in 
my life. I appeal to you, Helen.” 

“ I am pretty well again, dear papa. Do not let us talk any 
more about yesterday,” said Miss Effingham, caressingly. “You 
have been to Stanmore ; did you meet with Lady Tennyson, or Sir 
Richard ? ” 

“ To be sure. They drove up to the ‘ Queen’s Head ’ while we 
were there. Oh ! you would have been amused had you seen her 
ladyship’s plight. Sir Richard’s new horses, she said, had fright- 
ened her into fits , rearing, tearing, plunging, and nearly over- 
turning the phaeton several times. As I thought there really was 


54 


PIQUE. 


danger from tliat foolish fellow’s headlong driving, I advised hei 
to get out and wait at the hotel until her own carriage could be 
sent for ; a piece of advice she was only too thankful to* follow. 
But hero come Alrosford and Sir Gerard to talk to you girls whilst 
I finish my paper,” cried Lord Elvaston, good-naturedly, resuming 
his spectacles. 

Mildred colored deeply and, as Helen fancied, looked agitated.. 
She half arose, however, and held out her hand as the Earl ad< 
vanced towards her. 

“I hope I see Miss Effingham better?” said Lord Alresford, 
gravely, relinquishing her hand almost immediately. 

“ I am quite well, thank you,” replied Mildred, with glowing 
cheek. She paused, and then added, “You have been riding with 
papa this morning ? ” 

‘ Yes; we have been to Stanmore,” replied the Earl, coldly. 

“ W ere there many people in town to-day ? — I mean many of 
our friends,” rejoined Mildred, resolved not to be daunted. 

“ The place seemed to me more animated than usual. Public 
interest, I suppose, was excited on the result of an investigation 
into certain charges against a Mr. Blakesley, going forward at the 
barracks. Lady Tennyson appeared especially interested in the 
proceedings.” 

“ Miss Tennyson has been here this morning, and told us her 
mother was gone to Stanmore. She appeared rather alarmed for 
her, as Sir Richard was trying a pair of new horses in his phaeton 
for the first time.” 

“ Yes ; and 1 assure you Lady Tennyson also yielded very read- 
ily and gladly to your father’s suggestion, that she should wait at 
the hotel for her own carriage.” 

“ What ! Have you seen my friend Miss Tennyson this morn- 
ing ? ” exclaimed Sir Gerard. “ I had a great deal of conversation 
with her after you left yesterday evening,” continued he, ac.dress- 
ing Helen. “ How provoking that 1 was not at home ! ” 

“ Excessively so,” said Helen, laughing ; “ but I am happy to 
tell you she left a special invitation for you to join a riding party 
to Eernly Abbey on Friday.” 

“Did she? Oh! of course I shall go. But, Miss Campbell, 
do you know she was more amiable still the other evening, and 
invited me to Settringham. But, tell me, how long have you been 
here ? ” 

“ Why, I cannot precisely tell. I arrived at the Priory about 
one o’clock, and now I should imagine it is six ; I must leave you 
to find out the difference.” 


PIQUE. 


55 


“ Mrs. Campbell said you treated me most shamefully. I waited 
a considerable time, hoping to have the pleasure of walking with 
you here ; but when I venture 1 to hint that I knew Miss Effingham 
expected you early, your brother Colin assured me your first con 
ference together must be half over, as you had been gone two hours 
at the very least. I have been used most uncourteously. Do you 
net think so, Miss Effingham? ” 

Mildred did not reply. She was sitting with her back to Sir 
Gerard, bending over the pages of a large volume on the table. 
Lord Alresford was talking politics with her father, and Lady 
Elvaston sat reading in the little boudoir beyond ; though her eye 
often wandered from her book, and rested on the occupants of the 
adjoining room. Sir Gerard did not repeat his question ; but 
Helen, who, from her position, was enabled to catch a glance at 
Mildred’s fair face, saw the deepened color on her cheek, and 
hastened to reply. 

“ Trials, you know. Sir Gerard, often reveal striking virtues ; 
therefore you ought, instead of blaming, to thank me for my flight, 
which exhibits to our admiration your virtue of patience.” 

“ Now, Sir Gerard, both Helen and I expect a full and perfect 
account of your morning’s adventures. In the first place, where 
have you been?” exclaimed Mildred, suddenly rising from her 
seat, and taking a chair near Helen. 

“ I have been out with Mr. Archibald Campbell. Your friend 
will tell you that is a sufficient guarantee,” replied Sir Gerard, 
laughingly ; “ and I appeal to her, whether I ought not to be forth- 
with discharged without further examination.” 

“ No ; I have nothing further to do with it. Your cause is 
removed from my court.” 

“You are arraigned on the high charge of betaking yourself to 
your own devices, and suffering, in a mpst unknightly manner, a 
trio of ladies to sit down to their mid-day repast without an attempt 
on your part to pay them just and reasonable devoir,” cried Mil- 
dred, sportively. 

“ Nay ; justice, fair judge. Listen to my unanswerable defence. 
One beauteous lady, this morning, whether with or without cause 
1 know not, refused to shower her bright smiles upon us, and left 
us uncertain how long the eclipse would last. Still, however, 
intent upon doing her good service, I went in search of her sister 
grace, who, in the most subtle manner, likewise fled my good offices. 
Now, I say the first lady is the cause of all the misconceptions 
which have arisen, and I think ought to change places with the 
accused,” implied Sit* Gerard, fixing his eyes keenly on her face. 


56 


PIQUE. 


Mis3 Effingham colored deeply, but presently resumed the con- 
versation. Helen thought she had seldom seen her so animated. 
She talk id merrily also at the dinner-table, but Helen remarked a 
restless unsteady glitter in her eye, especially when it met that of 
the Earl ; who also cheerfully bore his share in the conversation, 
but as on the day before, watched her attentively. It was a most 
lovely summer evening ; a soft refreshing breeze poured through 
the open windows of the dining-room, and the setting sun shot 
forth beams tinging with the brightest blue, green, and crimson, 
the wavy ripples of the noble lake, which stretched away far into 
the park on the south side of the mansion. 

“ The evening is really too inviting to remain wdthin doors,” 
exclaimed Lord Elvaston, approaching one of the windows, when 
the ladies arose to retire. “ I never remember seeing a more 
splendid sunset ! Suppose we go down to the lake and have a row, 
before coffee ? ” 

“ Exactly the very evening for boating. Alresford, does it not 
remind you of Morges and our perilous excursion with Lord Wil- 
lingham and his daughter, on the Lake of Geneva ? 1 shall never 
forget Lady Catherine’s self-possession on that occasion.” 

“ We had a very narrow escape, I own,” replied Lord Alresford. 
“ But, Lady Elvaston, I trust Sir Gerard’s reminiscences of past 
dangers will not deter you now from accompanying us.” 

“ 1 shall enjoy it exceedingly. Helen, you will come, — and 
you also Mildred. It is impossible to resist the temptation of such 
an evening.” 

“ Then, since we are all agreed, I will ring and order Ashford 
to get the boat ready ; and if you, my dear, will go and put on 
your shawl and then walk down to the lake, you will find us await- 
ing you there,” said Lord Elvaston. 

In a very short time all the party assembled on the grassy mar- 
gin of the lake. Sir Gerard sprang into the boat, which rocked 
and dipped on the surface of the clear shining water, and seizing 
an oar pushed it forwards to the landing-stairs 

“ Come, Miss Campbell, why do you not get in? Let me help 
you,” said Lord Elvaston. “ Keep the boat steady, Baynton ” 

Helen turned and looked for Mildred. She was standing, ajpar- 
ently in deep reverie, a few yards distant. 

’‘Mildred, why don’t you come?” continued Lord Elvaston, 
impatiently. “ The beauty of the evening will have vanished 
before we get you all into the boat.” 

“ I do not think I shall go in the boat this evening, papa, so do 
not wait for me,” said Miss Effingham, approaching. “ I have 


PIQUE. 


57 


just remembered an errand which ought not to he delayed ; and I 
am going, instead, across the park to Norris’s.” 

“ What nonsense, Mildred ! Send your maid to-morrow, and 
come along ; ” said her father, sharply. 

What can this new freak mean ? thought Helen ; though she 
could scarce repress a smile at the evident amusement depicted on 
Sir Gerard’s face. 

“ No, papa, thank you, I prefer going myself,” responded Mil- 
dred, in very decisive tones; she then turned towards Lord Alres- 
ford, and the rich color mounted to her check, as she added, — 
“ Would it be disagreeable, or too much, to ask your lordship to 
forego this excursion and walk with me ? ” 

“ Certainly not. It will give me great pleasure, if you wish it,” 
replied the Earl. 

Mildred blushed crimson, and for a moment a powerful impulse 
prompted her to step into the boat; but she repressed it and silently 
took Lord Alresford’s arm, while her father, with a shrug, hurried 
Helen in, and, following himself, wished the pedestrians a pleasant 
walk, and the party pushed off. 

“ What a handsome couple they make ! ” exclaimed Sir Gerard 
in a low voice to Helen, as Lord Alresfoid and Mildred pursued 
their way along the border of the lake, a little in advance of the 
boat. “ How gracefully Miss Effingham atoned for her caprice, 
neglect — or what shall I call it — of last night ! ” 

Meanwhile, Mildred and the Earl proceeded on their way in 
silence. It was a glorious evening, and all around seemed gay, 
glowing, and harmonious. Now magnificent trees for a little space 
overshadowed their path, rearing and entwining their lofty boughs 
so as at times to shut out even a glimpse of the deep blue sky above, 
then suddenly breaking and studding the soft turf with clusters of 
three or four, down to the water’s edge. Thousands of various 
flies and insects flitted with dreamy buzz over the transparent 
water, settling lazily on the pale lilies floating on its surface like 
cups of drifted snow ; and here and there a dark-blue dragon-fly 
darted from its leafy covert, and after capriciously fluttering from 
one delicate blossom to another, dived with lightning speed amid 
the fragrant herbage and vegetation of an adjoining meadow. In 
the distance, the park stretched far as the eye could range, 
chequered with deep shadows and bright sunny patches, upon 
which numerous herds of deer indolently basked. As for Mil- 
dred, her heart beat violently, and she could scarcely believe that 
she was really leaning on the arm of the dreaded Lord Alresford, 
and had of her own free will absolutely subjected herself to a tetc- 
hy tete. 


58 


PIQUE. 


“It is now nearly a year and a half since we strolled thus 
together, Mildred. What numberless events have glided by during 
this interval ! ” at length observed the Earl, slowly ; and there 
was something in the deep, full tones which seemed to say, “ and 
how little better are we acquainted ! ” 

“ You hare chiefly passed this period abroad,” rejoined Mildred, 
hastily. 

“ Yes ; I have wandered in Italy, and through the south of 
France. I quitted ycnice about four months ago.” 

Mildred remembered Venice, and the Earl’s unanswered letters, 
and hastened to change the subject. 

“ What a lovely evening ! ” exclaimed she ; “ all things appear 
so fresh and fragrant under this glowing sky. I think there is 
nothing so delightful as to linger out of doors during one of these 
delicious sunsets ! ” 

\“ It is so, indeed ; and hard must that nature be, which, amid 
a scene of such calm loveliness and repose, does not cast from it 
some of the dross of earth, and feel the purer and better from its 
commune with Him who created all things so fair and harmonious ! 
Abroad, scenery is on a more gigantic scale ; but, perhaps except- 
ing some parts of Germany, one never meets, out of Old England, 
with the rich pastures and woodlands, ever- verdant turf and green 
hedgerows, which form so conspicuous a point in our English land- 
scapes. I am glad, however, Mildred to find you have the taste 
requisite to make a good chatelaine , — a keen sense and enjoy- 
ment of the beauties of the country.” 

“ Ah, yes ! no one can love bright sun, flowers, and foliage, 
more than 1 do,” replied Mildred, quickly, piqued that the rEarl 
should imagine her, (as by his last words she hastily concluded he 
did,) so devoid of refined feeling and sentiment, as to express such 
vivid pleasure that at least he had discovered one congenial point 
in their tastes and pursuits. “ But at the risk of exciting your 
surprise at my want of taste, I must be candid enough to confess 
that I should reluctantly pass the entire year in the country. We 
generally spend three or four months in town.” 

“ I quite agree with you. To thoroughly enjoy the country — 
or, rather, I should say to appreciate it — requires the novelty and 
contrast of the heated rooms and dingy atmosphere of town.” 

“ But do you not think custom and fashion, in people* of our 
station, render such a visit indispensable ? How could one be 
conversant with the world, literature, — in fact, anything. — if 
eternally buried in the country?” demanded Mildred, resolutely. 

“ You quite mistake my meaning, Mildred. I think a yearly 


PIQUE. 


59 


sojourn in town for persons of our condition, in short, for every 
one. most delightful and beneficial ; but I should be sorry to see 
any person for whom I had a regard, partake in all the dissipation 
of a London season, and after months of fevered excitement, return 
home broken in health, and morally unfitted for the discharge of 
her highest and most sacred duties.” 

Oh, — thought Mildred, — this is a gentle hint of what I may 
expect, and the rule and method to be observed at his lordship’s 
town mansion. 

“ Nay, perhaps you will find it difficult to engraft your standard 
upon others; and to make it quite clear how much, or how little, 
they may mingle with the world to insure your approbation,” 
responded she, playfully. 

“ Not my approval alone, Mildred. I would fain hope that 
principle, and the knowledge that we arc accountable beings for 
all the good and evil of our actions — for all occasions lost, or 
trifled away, of doing good — would be a far nobler guide and aim. 
Besides, I am sure that you will agree with me that a woman, 
whether wife or daughter of a man of large landed estate, has far 
greater opportunities for active benevolence, and of making her- 
self beloved and revered among the tenantry or poor dependants of 
her husband or father — and, consequently, of opening to herself 
a purer source of pleasure — than amidst the frivolity of fashion- 
able dissipation.” 

“ Oh, 1 dare say all you say is true enough,” rejoined Mildred, 
slightly tossing her graceful head ; “ but, l must confess, I have 
small vocation to play the part of parish Lady Bountiful ! ” 

Perverse, perverse Mildred! Had Helen been by, she would 
have proclaimed that scarce was there a cottager in Greysdon or 
its neighborhood, whose heart did not glow with gratitude when 
it mused on the kindly counsels and pecuniary relief ofttimes 
bestowed by the fair young lady of the briory. 

" But see ! ” continued she, pointing toward the lake, “ the boat 
is a mere speck now. The breeze must be swift this evening, 
or lather, perhaps, ’t is Sir Gerard Baynton's skilful rowing. 
What a lively, good-natured man he is! ” 

“ Baynton is a favorite wherever he goes, and most deservedly • 
for never was there any one more estimable and high-principled. 
Lady Emily Baynton, likewise, is just the mother such a s m may 
indeed be proud of. She is precisely the type of what a woman 
of rank ought to be, — gentle, dignified, benevolent, and devoted 
to the welfare of others. Lady Emily constantly resides at the 
Chauntry, and 1 hope, Mildred, if Amesbury ever becomes your 


60 


PIQUE. 




home, you will greatly benefit by her society ; for, although I do 
not generally approve of female confidential friends, there is no one 
I should so sincerely rejoice to sec you intimate with.” 

“ Your lordship’s code appears to me a very singular and 
stringent one. May I ask your objection to female friends ? ” said 
Mildred, proudly. 

“ Certainly. I think a woman can have no better confidant than 
her husband, and all things she cannot fearlessly confide to him 
had much better remain unspoken: I confess I should be so far 
jealous of my wife’s affection, that I could not tolerate another 
should possess, to my exclusion, that confidence which, from the 
moment she bestowed upon me her hand, is mine by right.” 

Mildred said nothing in reply, and for a few minutes they 
walked on in silence, along a narrow green drive they had just 
entered, sheltered on both sides by thriving plantations, which led 
straight to the lodge Mildred wished to visit. The grass was soft, 
and spangled with hundreds of bright flowerets, mingling with 
clustering thickets of double gorsc covered with golden blossoms, 
and birds fluttered joyously amid the hawthorn bushes, the bound- 
ary lines of the plantations. 

Lord Alrcsford paused at a sudden break in the woods, through 
which a fine view of the park and its noble avenues of limes was 
obtained. 

“ Admirably as your father, Mildred, has laid out the park and 
gardens here, I cannot help flattering myself you will find greater 
beauties at Amcsbury. The ground there is more undulating, and 
the timber older, and disposed, if possible, even more picturesquely 
than this. My father had great taste, and adorning and beauti- 
fying Amcsb iry was one of his passions.” 

“ Yes ; I have often heard, from papa and others, of your noble 
park at Amcsbury. The grounds around the mansion are also 
beautifully arranged, I am told.” 

“ I have lately been making considerable alterations since my 
return from Italy, aided by the good taste of ray two friends, Lady 
Emily Baynton and Lady Catherine. When I quitted home, 
Mildred, the parterres of the garden, into which open the windows 
of the suite of rooms I had selected for you two years ago, were 
glowing with lovely roses. I ordered them to be planted in such 
profusion, knowing you preferred roses to any other flower.” 

Mildred’s heart beat ; she would have given worlds to put the 
query, and hear from the Earl’s lips, why at that period he had 
rejected her hand ; and as she walked along, how vividiy did the 
wish arise, that her marriage had then taken place. 


riQUE. 


61 


“ It was»very kind of you to think thus for my gratification,” 
said she, in a low voice, turning away her head to conceal the 
tears which sprang to her eyes. After a pause, she added, quickly, 
“ Lady Catherine Neville, I suppose, intends now to reside per- 
manently at Wardour Court.” 

“ Yes ; she has quite established herself there. Lord Willing- 
ham was loag in a declining state of health, and died, (as of course 
you know,) at Narbonne, on his road home. Luckily, I was then 
also abroad, and hastened to offer every consolation and aid in my 
powci to Lady Catherine. Her meek resignation to the blow which 
bereaved her of her only parent, and left her unprotected in the 
world, was unequalled ; but, young as she is, her mind is one of 
extraordinary power, blended with a disposition noble, firm, and 
so totally free from caprice, that ’t is impossible for any one long 
to withhold their tribute of admiration.” 

Unconsciously as Lord Alresford spoke, a vivid flush mounted 
to Mildred’s brow, and she hurriedly withdrew her hand from the 
Earl’s arm. 

“ It must be a source of infinite consolation to Lady Catherine 
* to reside so near to Amcsbury, I should imagine,” said she, at 
length, in constrained tones. . 

Lord Alresford turned in surprise, and bent a keen glance on 
his companion. Miss Effingham’s head was averted, but her beau- 
tiful figure moved with more stately an air than was its wont. A 
smile curled the Earl’s lip, and a peculiar expression flitted across 
his features. 

“ She has often been kind and condescending enough to express 
herself so,” rejoined he, calmly. 

Mildred bit her lip. 

“ Indeed,” replied she, drawing the folds of her shawl closer 
round her figure, and walking on with a step still more determined. 
Lord Alresford again attentively regarded her. 

“Mildred,” at length said he, firmly, but gently, “let us not 
raise imaginary barriers, I beseech you. I fear, unhappily, there 
are already too many real ones to surmount, before we arrive at a 
right understanding of each other. Believe me, once for all, when 
I tell you, Lady Catherine can never inspire me with greater 
interest than is her due as my ward, and, moreover, a very dear 
and prized friend.” 

Mildred trembled, and a vivid color suffused her check. She 
felt profoundly mortified that her secret pique towards Lady Cath- 
erine should have been so promptly detected, and her awe of the 
Earl retuined in full force, as she saw no considerations, no 
G 


62 


PIQUE. 


trifling, would deter him from fearlessly administering the anti- 
dote to all fancied perverse misconceptions on her part. “ How 
he must despise me ! ” thought she, “ for cherishing and betraying 
such littleness, and acting so very contrary to his own open 
candor.” 

“ Indeed, my lord, you are mistaken. I sought not, needed not 
such an explanation ! ” exclaimed she, eagerly. After an embar- 
rassed pause, she then rapidly added, “ Docs not Lady Catherine 
find Wardour Court very dull and solitary ? ” 

“ She does not live alone, or otherwise I am sure she must. 
Mrs. Otway, a distant cousin of the late Lady Willingham’s, who 
has been her friend for years, resides with her still.” 

“ What, my lord, after your openly avowed disapproval of 
female confidants ! ” exclaimed Mildred, archly. 

“ Lady Catherine is not a wife ; therefore, in her position, it 
is highly desirable she should possess some such friend,” replied 
Lord Alresford, smiling ; “ but, Mildred, I have neither the right 
nor the power, even if I so willed, to deprive the Lady Catherine 
of the society of any friends she chooses to cultivate, or even to 
obtrude my opinions upon her. Before, I was speaking of my 
wife ” 

“ But would you wish to deprive your wife of her friends?” 
demanded Mildred, with spirit. 

“ Most certainly not. I would have her prize their friendship 
as ever, but I must have all her confidence, — all her heart, or 
none ! Do you think me unreasonable ? ” replied Lord Alresford, 
riveting his gaze keenly on her blushing cheek. 

“ Yes,” faltered Mildred. Then she added, quickly, “ You 
consider, then, this perfect confidence an obligation binding only 
on one side ? ” 

“ Far from it. Let me only respect my wife, her principles, 
and conduct, and she will have little cause to complain.” 

Mildred was silent, and they proceeded until they came in sight 
of the lodge, — the object of her walk. 

“ I shall not have time to speak with Norris this evening, we 
have walked so slowly. Upon second thoughts, I will send Aglae 
with a message to-morrow morning,” said Mildred, pausing. 

“ Then, shall wc turn homewards again ? ” 

Miss Effingham assented. 

“ What an exceedingly elegant, accomplished girl your frieDd 
Miss Campbell appears, Mildred,” said the Earl, after a short 
silence. 

“ Indeed, she is,” replied Mildred, warmly ; “ and pretty as she 


PIQUE. 


63 


is, her goodness surpasses it, as much as she is herself superior to 
all the world. Yesterday evening ” 

She paused. 

“Well, Mildred, — yesterday evening. I am anxious to hear 
e7ery explanation you can possibly afford,” rejoined the Earl, 
kindly, and very earnestly. 

“But if I have none to offer — at least not at present,” mur- 
mured Mildred, after a pause, while a slight tremor shook her 
frame. 

“ Then recur not to the subject, I entreat, Miss Effingham,” 
replied the Earl, severely. 

“ Your lordship is right. It is a period too exquisitely pain- 
ful to be lightly recalled,” retorted Mildred, haughtily. 

The Earl merely bowed, and immediately changed the conver- 
sation ; but Mildred’s heart was heavy. Bewildering thoughts 
came crowding on her fancy, not, however, unraingled with bitter 
self-reproach. She could not refrain from mentally acknowledging 
how much the Earl was superior in intellect to him for whom he 
had been so faithlessly deserted. She recalled the refined and 
ever-ready flattery always at Colonel Sutherland’s command, and 
compared it with the stern sincerity and proud truthfulness of 
Lord Alresford ; and, in spite of herself, conscience whispered 
which was most worthy to be prized and treasured. “ It is clear 
he does not love me,” mused Mildred ; “ no! I have alienated him 
forever, else would he so pitilessly expose my failings ? Yet, I 
feel I could attain even to his standard. Sutherland doubts me 
not; yes, I could be happier with one who appreciates me! ” 

The Earl did not interrupt her reverie, and they rapidly con- 
tinued their homeward walk. The light had gradually faded 
away into purple twilight, and wreaths of white mist curled and 
struggled over the distant lowlands of the park, and around the 
margin of the lake. 

“ Your shawl is quite damp. I hope you will not feel any ill 
effects from our late walk,” said Lord Alresford, as they stood a 
minute together in the hall. 

“ Oh, no ; I am accustomed to be out late.” 

“ 1 trust we are beginning to understand each other better, 
Mildr-.d,” exclaimed the Earl, as for a second he retained her 
little hand within his own. 

“Yes-; I think so, — perhaps!” said Mildred, as she darted 
away fiorn his side and entered the drawing-room. 

Lord Alresford took three or four more turns on the terrace, 
and then re-entered the mansion. 


64 


PIQUE. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A gorgeous sunset, some ten months prior to the events of the 
preceding chapters, shed its glowing hues, and blended into one 
mass of dazzling vapor, the rugged peaks and dark outline of the 
ridge of rocky hills which divides the fair province of Languedoo 
from Roussillon. The day had been oppressively hot ; the steady 
sultry heat of the south, when no soft cloud flits over the sun’s 
disc to stay the ardent beam, under which the verdant foliage 
loses its fresh crispness and the fairest blossoms droop ; and the 
setting sun, curtained in glorious effulgence, sank at last, and dis- 
appeared behind the gloomy and magnificent chain of the Pyre- 
nees, bounding the far horizon ; flooding the sky, around and over 
the ancient city of Narbonne, with clouds of the deepest trans- 
parent rose color. A fresh invigorating breeze then blew down 
from the mountains, and the people poured from their close, stifling 
houses into the dingy streets — of what, alas ! was once the far- 
famed capital of the largest and most important of the Roman 
divisions of Gaul — to inhale the cool air ; and to gaze, perchance 
with envy and admiration, on the picturesque attire and indolent 
luxury of the occupants of the balconies running along the facade 
of a few of the houses occupied by the chief citizens of Narbonne. 
All the inhabitants of that ancient city — so isolated from the 
world by its peculiar situation — appeared joyous on this calm 
summer evening. They paused, earnestly discoursing in knots of 
from three to four, on the margin of the sluggish little stream 
intersecting the town, which now rippled and flowed forwards witli 
unwonted speed as the light wind arose. The theme, however, of 
all the loiterers, high and low, was the same ; the busy imagina- 
tions of all were employed speculating on the arrival and probable 
stay of a wealthy English nobleman ; whom sickness, apparently, 
compelled to become a sojourner in their little unfrequented city. 
Marvellous rumors were likewise afloat of the extraordinary beauty 
of a fair young girl, his daughter, who appeared to lavish the 
tenderest care and affection on the invalid. 

In days of yore, the birth of an imperial heir, or the pompous 
pageant of the triumphant entry of some victorious general from 
foreign conquest, was scarce sufficient to excite the interest of the 
haughty citizen of Narbonne ; but now its modern inhabitants, 
with most undignified pertinacity, in the hope of catching the 
slightest glimpse of their wealthy visitors, crowded towards the 
venerable mansion where they had taken up their abode. But the 


PIQUE. 


65 


curiosity of the worthy Narbonnois, if such it were, was doomed to 
disappointment. The blinds and clumsy wooden shutters of the 
tall, toppling mansion were closed, and the strangers suffered no 
outward sign to escape, that they enjoyed or luxuriated in the 
delicious fresco which emptied half the houses in Narbonne. 

At the back, however, of this ancient mansion spread a garden 
teeming with fragrant flowers, rich, varied, and glowing; as dif- 
ferent from the sickly produce of our northern greenhouses and 
stoves, as fresh air, space, and the soft dews of heaven could 
render them. On one side of the garden arose the square towers 
of the fortress palace of the Archbishop of Narbonne, and the 
exquisite Gothic faqade of the cathedral, and all around were 
spire? almost countless ; for as the province of Languedoc can 
boast of possessing many of the richest benefices in France, so 
could Narbonne then, for its size, glory in the number and wealth 
of its churches and monastic establishments. 

Along the front of the second story of the mansion stretched a 
broad balcony, terminating at both ends by a flight of stone steps, 
flanked by a balustrade of rough marble, descending to the garden. 
On this balcony — or rather terrace, as from its breadth it might 
be properly called — close to the balustrade, stood a small couch, 
and on the stone beside lay a pile of faded brocade cushions. A 
long, narrow window opened on the balcony, the door of which, 
pushed back, disclosed a small, gloomy-looking apartment, the 
salon of the mansion, with muslin hangings and a dingy floor ; 
which had seldom glowed beneath the vigorous exertbns of the 
scrubber. The various articles strewed over the table in the 
centre seemed strangely at variance with the style and general 
aspect of the room. There was a piece of embroidery, and silks 
of every hue in an ivory box by its side. A small book lay open, 
also, with sketching materials around ; and close to them stood a 
magnificent magnolia, with its large flaky petals expanded* over 
the edge of a vase of turquoise blue, and at the other end of the 
table lay a huge piece of knitting, with pins like spears thrust 
through a ball of wool. A large arm-chair and several smaller 
one3, with a mirror in a tarnished gold frame, completed the 
furniture of the apartment. 

To return, however, to the balcony ; on one of the faded crimson 
cushions close to the foot of the couch, knelt a young girl ; her 
arms resting on the top of the low parapet, and one hand support- 
ing her head. She was attired in white ; and her dress admirably 
displayed the symmetry of her small rounded bust and slender 
figure. Rows of delicate lace fell around her throat, confined at 


66 


PIQUE. 


the bosom by a rich jewel and sparkling rings encircled the slight 
fingers raised to her brow, supporting one of the most graceful 
little heads imaginable; around which twined shining bands of 
hair, — soft, fine, and black as the purest jet, — gathered into a 
heavy knot behind. Her complexion was clear olive, with the 
very faintest tinge of pink coloring the dimpled cheek ; the mouth, 
Bmall, full, and, perhaps, rather voluptuous in'its expression; and 
the contour of her face a faultless oval. Her brow was smooth as 
ivory, rather low than otherwise, but wide and ample ; and the 
nose small, and delicately moulded. But beautiful and refined as 
was the Lady Catherine Neville, there was still something more 
fascinating in the soft deep tones of her voice, and in the impas- 
sioned and fervid language which occasionally burst from her lips; 
contrasting as it did with the usually calm thoughtfulness of her 
ordinary demeanor. 

Lady Catherine’s education had been elaborate, and cultivated 
in the highest degree. Her mind was lofty and impetuous, attuned 
to the soft glowing romance of the south, where she had spent the 
greater part of her life. Early left to her own guidance by the 
increasing and fatal malady under which her father labored, Lady 
Catherine acquired a courageous and fearless decision of character 
and action, surprising in one so young ; and these her peculiar 
circumstances, and the responsibility which attached itself so early 
to her lot, induced habits of deep reflection, verging sometimes on 
melancholy. Erom her father, broken in health and enfeebled in 
intellect, she derived little help ; in Mrs. Otway, the friend of her 
childhood, she found an affectionate sympathizer in her difficulties, 
indeed ; but one whose counsel ebbed and flowed as the restless 
ocean, and shook with every passing breeze. Thus Lady Catherine, 
ceasing at length to look for aid from those around her, persevered 
unfalteringly in all things that her own high principle and clear 
judgment approved without a shadow of a doubt ; in all others, 
where circumstances demanded further counsel, she sought and 
obtained it in the steady friendship of Lord Alresford, the son of 
her father’s oldest friend, then likewise resident at Venice. Fear- 
lessly the Lady Catherine asked, and eagerly improved, every 
opportunity for more intimate acquaintance with one whose opin- 
ion she so highly appreciated ; without the slightest apprehen- 
sion for her future peace. True, though she had been previously 
informed by her father of Lord Alresford’s engagement to Miss 
Effingham, and had even heard its acknowledgment from the Earl’s 
own lips, yet still there might have been peril in this familiar 
intercourse, had not the safeguard slumbered in her own bosom ; 


PIQUE. 


67 

for the beautiful Lady Catherine loved passionately, with the whole 
strength of her enthusiastic, ardent spirit. 

Motionless she knelt on the balcony, leaning over the balus- 
trade, as if in deep meditation. More than once her hand swept 
across her brow, and a restless flash lighted her eye. Presently 
she laid her head on the end of the couch, and wept convulsively. 
Around, everything was placid and still, save that now the air 
vibrated to the musical tinkling of the small vesper bells from the 
numerous spires and towers throughout the city of Narbonne. A 
perfect incense of prayer and supplication daily ascended to the 
Throne of Mercy ; for no less than four hundred ecclesiastics were 
perpetually employed within its churches, in chanting services, 
requiems, and masses. 

Some quarter of an hour thus elapsed, when the door of the 
salon opened, and a light step glided towards the balcony. Lady 
Catherine hurriedly dashed the tears from her eyes, and, half 
turning, found her friend, Airs. Otway, seated just without the 
window, quietly unrolling her knitting. 

“ Dear Mrs. Otway,” exclaimed she, earnestly, “ I hope you 
left papa tolerably comfortable. Has he not gone to sleep rather 
earlier than usual, to-night?” 

“I wish, my dear, you would try and not worry yourself so 
terribly. Positively, Lady Catherine, you will fret until you are 
quite ill. I am beginning to be seriously miserable about you,” 
replied Mrs. Otway, in a tone of expostulation, as she gazed on 
the fair cheek, wet still with traces of recent tears. 

“ Well, — but about papa, Mrs. Otway, tlow do you think he 
seems this evening ?” 

“ To tell you the truth, my dear, his lordship appears strangely 
uneasy to-night. I read the papers to him for some time ; but, as 
the restlessness did not abate, I summoned Dr. Gordon.” 

“ I must go to him this moment ! ” exclaimed Lady Catherine, 
springing to her feet. “ Oh, Mrs. Otway, why did you not send 
for me?” added she, reproachfully. 

“ Stay, my dear Lady Catherine,” said Mrs. Otway, hastily 
dropping her knitting. “ Be not so impetuous, I beseech ! Dr. 
Gordon begged me to leave his lordship’s room, and particularly 
desired that his patient should not be disturbed again to-night. 
I assure you, my dear, I left the Doctor sitting by the bedside, 
with his fingers on Lord Willingham’s pulse; and he insisted 
your father should be left to his care,” added Mrs. Otway, as she 
caught the Lady Catherine’s half-doubting glance ; aware that the 
latter more than half suspected her, on many occasions, of being 


G8 


PIQUE. 


more careful of her pupil’s ease, than solicitous that she should 
act to the strict letter of her duty. 

Lady Catherine threw herself on the couch. 

“ I want you to tell me, Mrs. Otway, what you really think of 
papa’s condition; I mean, since we quitted Venice?” said she, 
after an interval of a few minutes. 

Mrs. Otway hesitated. 

“ Why your question is rather a difficult one, and I scarcely 
know how to give my opinion on a case which varies apparently 
every day. At any rate, my dear, I can so far conscientiously 
say, 1 think Lord Willingham ha3 made extraordinary progress, 
during these last few days ; and that he seems wonderfully revived 
again from the attack which compelled us to stay in this wretched 
place,” replied she at length, glancing round the room. 

“ I trust papa does not find the smallness of his room here 
oppressive, — so very different to what he has been accustomed to 
in Italy,” mused Lady Catherine. 

“No, I do not think his lordship feels inconvenienced ; but 
even if he did, you know, my dear, there is no help for it. Dr 
Gordon declared it would be death to remove him forwards another 
stage. Thanks, however, to the Doctor’s medicine-chest, and our 
own excellent supplies, we have everything requisite for the com- 
fort of our dear invalid; and most fortunate it is.” 

“ I am not at all surprised. But my dear, kind friend, pray 
be explicit with me. Dr. Gordon is not sufficiently so, and I fear 
holds out false hope,; therefore tell me, I conjure you, has he ever 
said anything to you about my father’s case ? ” 

“ I fancy Dr. Gordon does not anticipate immediate danger, 
and trusts Lord Willingham may have strength to bear the journey 
home ; and when once safely arrived at W ardour Court one can 
scarcely tell what miracle the air may effect. You must not be 
daunted, my dear Catherine, by our unlucky break-down here ; 
for really the roads we travelled upon were villanous enough to 
shake the most robust constitution,” said Mrs. Otway, rising, and 
seating herself on the couch by Lady Catherine. 

“ Of my dear father’s ultimate recovery, I have long, long 
despaired ; but a dread presentiment pursues me, that some fatal 
catastrophe will happen here. God grant my fears may not be 
realized ! ” said Lady Catherine, covering her face with her hands. 

“ It was certainly most unfortunate that the Earl insisted on 
this foolish journey through the south of France, on his way home. 
Oh ! how I wish we were safely arrived there ! ” exclaimed Mrs, 
Otway. 


PIQUE. 


69 


“ Should this dreadful calamity happen, what is to become of 
me ? ” observed Lady Catherine, abstractedly. 

“ We will go home to Wardour Court, dearest.” 

“ Home ! ” exclaimed Lady Catherine, with a sigh, and the 
words lingered bitterly on her beautiful lips. “ Yes ; but I am 
a stranger there ! Who will welcome me back ? What heart 
anticipates my arrival, or who will care whether I go or stay 
away? My own recollections of Wardour Court are vague and 
faint; I connect always its idea with a dark, cloister-looking 
mansion, smooth-shaven lawns, dark woods, sombre alleys, — in 
fact, everything dismal ! ” 

“ If you learn to love Wardour Court a6 well as your dear mother 
did, Catherine, you will find every comfort and happiness there ; 
to this very day, as you know, her name is beloved amongst the 
tenantry,” cried Mrs. Otway, earnestly. “ But, my dear, I have a 
suggestion to otfcr. I think you ought to write immediately to 
Lord Alresford ; though, perhaps, as that little head treasures 
matchless wisdom, you may have done so already.” 

“No, indeed, I have not; but I will follow you advice to- 
morrow.” 

Mrs. Otway smiled, well pleased that she had for once given her 
beloved eleve a piece of valuable counsel. 

“ Wardour Court and Amesbury are quite close together,” con- 
tinued she, complacently. “Ah! I do nothing but perpetually 
regret that noble-looking Lord Alresford should be betrothed to 
Lord Elvaston’s daughter. What a delightful marriage it would 
have been for you, my dear ? ” 

“ Nay ; here you and I must differ, my dear, old friend,” said 
Lady Catherine, laughing. “ Do you know I never suspected you 
of half such romantic nonsense? No, no ; Lord Alresford and I, 
though we bear each other most warm friendship, are the very last 
persons in the world to fall in love ; our intimacy has been far too 
real, open, and free from illusion.” 

“ Do you think Lord Alresford is really attached to Miss Effing- 
ham, Catherine?” 

“ Yes, I am certain of it. I understand the marriage is soon 
to take place.” 

Mrs. Otway raised her eyes earnestly to Lady Catherine’s face, 
and in so doing let half-a-dozen stitches or so drop off her pin ; 
for the kind-hearted old lady had long set her heart, and puzzled 
her brains, to devise a scheme which should elevate her pupil to 
the rank of spouse to the man whom she so much admired and 
reverenced. 


70 


PIQUE. 


“Positively, the stitches in this tiresome scarlet stripe have*, 
slipped again ! I declare, these bells are enough to distract the 
most skilful knitter in Christendom ! One might just as comfort- 
ably be seated in a belfry as on this terrace,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Otway, wrathfully. 

Lady Catherine quietly took the knitting, and soon restored the 
stitehes on the pin. 

“ Thank you, my darling. You are always ready to assist me 
in all my difficulties,” said Mrs. Otway, fondly kissing her fore- 
head. “The Conways, your old playfellows, will rejoice to see 
you home again, I am sure. Don’t you remember, Catherine, 
young Normanton used to call himself your champion, and sustain 
your rights most gallantly ? ” 

“Yes; he was a fine, noble-spirited boy. How very odd I 
should so completely have lost sight of them all ! Maude Con- 
way, I remember, a fair cherub of a child, with flaxen hair and 
blue eyes. I dare say, I shall not recognize any again.” 

“Then, my dear, there is your cousin, Mr. Egremont Turville; 
who, having gained his cause, intends to settle at Nethercote. 
Did you read the letter he wrote to your papa last week ? He 
seems quite enchanted at the prospect of your speedy return.” 

“ Yes ; but why he should be, astonished me when I read his 
letter. Mr. Turville has never seen papa for many years, and me 
not at all,” said Lady Catherine, languidly. 

“ Well, I think I have satisfactorily proved we shall be ob- 
jects of interest to somebody. Besides, my dear, I presume you 
do not intend to pass your life in single blessedness?” added the 
old lady, somewhat slyly. 

Lady Catherine’s fair face flushed. 

“ I suppose I shall follow the destiny of most women, and marry 
some day,” said she, faintly. 

“ I think it a very likely thing, too, my beautiful child 1 ” re- 
joined Mrs. Otway, with a triumphant smile, as she gazed in the 
lovely, pensive face, turned towards her. “'But tell me, Cathe- 
rine, are there none of the heap of suitors introduced to your 
not ice by your aunt, Madame de Pezzaro, sufficiently emboldened 
to follow you, after a space, to England? ” 

“Nay; tell me first which you approved of most,” said Lady 
Catherine, evasively, turning away her head. 

“ Well, then, there was the Count Yon Leinendorf.” 

“ A conceited blockhead, perpetually dreaming of his forty-seven 
quarterings ; and who actually did me the honor to inform me that 
I was indebted for the sublime offer of his hand to the flattering 

G» 


PIQUE. 


71 


fact that my lozenge would admirably fill a vacant corner in his 
shield.” 

“ Then what do you say to the Prince of Aveiro ? ” 

“Worse and worse. The Prince has been a widower twice; 
and, as the Count obligingly informed me, possesses half-a-dozen 
children or more, reared in the solitude of some Calabrian strong- 
hold.” 

“ Then were the Condesa’s efforts totally fruitless ? I must own 
I took a great fancy to our intelligent countryman, Mr. Randolph,” 
rejoined Mrs. Otway ; taking a furtive, sidelong glance at the 
countenance of her young friend. 

“ Yes ; Mr. Randolph Was of far different calibre to my Italian 
suitors, doubtless,” replied Lady Catherine, blushing deeply. 

“ He has such very winning manners. But. Catherine, did Mr. 
Randolph leave no other impression upon you than that of a very 
agreeable acquaintance ? ” 

Lady Catherine appeared strongly agitated, and her head sank 
again on the couch. 

“ Never mind, my dear, never mind ; don’t answer my ques- 
tion,” exclaimed Mrs. Otway, quickty. “I dare say, some day I 
shall know all. We won’t talk any more about Mr. Randolph.” 

“ Nay; you shall know all about it now, my dear old friend. 
To cut a long story short, we found out somehow we both loved ; 
and — the fact is, we have plighted faith to each other,” cried 
Lady Catherine, impetuously, seizing Mrs. Otway’s hand, while 
bright tears glittered in her dark eyes. 

“ Lady Catherine ! My dear! ” exclaimed Mrs. Otway, in con- 
sternation, the knitting gliding from her fingers to the ground. 
“ What is it you tell me ? Have you reflected well ? Does Lord 
Willingham know of this engagement?” 

“ Mr. Randolph is a great favorite with papa.” 

•• Yes ; but does he think him a sufficient match for you, Lady 
Catherine ? Everybody must allow he is a most fascinating young 
man, but ” 

“ But what ? ” 

“ Why, in my opinion, there is something very mysterious about 
Mr. Randolph. It is most extraordinary that, although he is 
received in the best society and is apparently wealthy and high 
born, nobody really knows who and what he is. Even Madame 
de Pezarro used every effort to discover his family, and totally 
failed.” 

'* It is not very likely that Mr. Randolph, if he has reasons for 
wishing to preserve his incognito, should suffer it to be learned.” 


72 


PIQUE. 


“ No ; but my dear Catherine, when I remarked his great atten- 
tion to you, I took every opportunity to draw from him, if possible, 
some account of himself ; and, I confess, I was highly amused at 
the ingenious manner he parried my queries. When I fancied I 
had gained one little point, some casual remark of his would launch 
me again as far from the fact as ever. Depend upon it, my dear, 
he must have some mighty interest in concealing his past history ; 
and unless Mr. Randolph explains all this clearly, forgive me if [ 
declare ray opinion to be that you ought to put an end to the affair 
at once. Now, I ask you, ray dear, has Mr. Randolph explained 
all to your satisfaction V ” said Mrs. Otway, waxing warm ; for the 
danger she foresaw to her beloved pupil’s future peace in this kind 
of unsatisfactory engagement aroused her energy. 

“ Mr. Randolph has explained nothing ; but I love him, and 
therefore trust him ! ” exclaimed Lady Catherine, firmly, raising 
her head from the sofa pillow, while her cheek glowed. 

“ And has Lord Willingham actually consented to the marriage 
on these terms ? ” exclaimed Mrs. Otway, in dismay, in a tone 
which indicated she conceived the Earl had fairly taken leave of 
his senses. 

“ Papa has consented to my marriage only on condition Mr. 
Randolph explains these mysteries ; so, pray, do not look so very 
concerned, dear Mrs. Otway,” replied Lady Catherine, flinging her 
arm round the kind old lady’s neck. “ Mr. Randolph promised to 
leave for England six months after we quitted Italy, and it was 
arranged he should visit Wardour Court; though he did half 
engage to see us once more at Bordeaux, ere we embarked.” 

“ So be it, darling,” exclaimed Mrs. Otway, her face once more 
radiant with smiles. “I thought neither you nor Lord Willing- 
ham could be so wofully rash. I trust with all my heart, that 
this handsome, engaging Mr. Randolph may succeed ; for I think, 
next to Lord Alresford, he would be just the very husband for you, 
dear. I should not be surprised any day to see him arrive here.” 

“ Perhaps he may,” replied Lady Catherine, whilst a blush of 
conscious security stole over her beautiful face. “ Let us go down 
into the garden, the flowers look so very inviting.” 

“ Well, my dear, if anybody deserves to be happy, it is you l 
am sure.” replied Mrs. Otway, kissing her glowing cheek. “ Ah ! 
I think I hear Dr. Gordon’s step in the next room, so if you will 
excuse me, I will now just ask him a few questions about the 
Earl.” 

Lady Catherine smiled assent. 

“ You will mind and not remain out in the garden too late, 


PIQUE. 


73 


Catherine, for night dews are always injurious ; besides, in this 
queer place one does not know what loathsome reptiles may he 
lurking amid those masses of tangled grass and foliage yonder,” 
said Mrs. Otway, as she lingered a moment before passing into 
the salon. 

Lady Catherine, for a little space after she was gone, remained 
in deep meditation on the sofa. She then arose, and throwing a 
large black lace shawl over her head and shoulders, bounded dow n 
the steps into the garden. She strolled slowly along in the direc- 
tion of a grove of almonds she had observed in her previous ram- 
bles ; the rich green foliage of tall orange-trees forming a wall on 
either side of the narrow alley through which her path lay. Beau- 
tiful flowers expanded their parched leaves to gather the heavy re- 
freshing dew, and the air was laden with the delicious fragrance 
of countless orange blossoms, drooping and glistening amid the 
dark glossy foliage like transparent pearl drops. Lady Catherine 
wandered on in a perfect ecstasy of delight, until she came to a more 
clear and open space, when she threw herself on a seat, and prepared 
thoroughly to enjoy the scene. In the midst of the lawn, a small foun- 
tain bubbled up, scattering around a vapor of sparkling spray. 
Behind arose the majestic battlements and towers of the cathedral ; 
which appeared so near that she almost imagined she could trace its 
deep shadows in the fitful moonlight beaming around ; and on look- 
ing more earnestly, she at length perceived that in fact a high hedge 
of eglantine, and other prickly bushes, only separated its enclosure 
from the garden. She sat thus for a few minutes, but suddenly 
started nervously to her feet, as a dark shadow glided from under 
the covert of the hedge, and moved rapidly forwards in the direc- 
tion of the plot of grass of which the fountain formed the centre. 
Lady Catherine gathered her shawl closely round her, and darted 
forwards towards the house. The figure quickened its pace also, 
but presently she heard her own name uttered in a voice which 
sent the blood with a thrill to her heart. She paused, and hur- 
riedly threw the veil from her head, but ere she could articulate a 
syllable, she found herself clasped in the arms of Mr. Randolph. 

“ Catherine, dearest ! ” 

“ Oh, Frederic, you terrified me so ! What can bring you 
hither in this mysterious manner? ” said Lady Catherine, raising 
her head from her lover’s shoulder. 

“ Nay, Catherine, I pray you, look not so scared,” exclaimed 
Mr. Randolph, lightly kissing again and again her glowing cheek, 
and drawing her gently towards the bench, from which she had 
fled on bis approach. “ How is Lord Willingham to-night? ” 


74 


PIQUE. 


“ Dear papa is a little better to-day, but I cannot, alas ! flatter 
myself the amendment is permanent. But, Frederic, I am all 
impatience to learn how you discovered us in this remote place ; 
for you cannot have received my letter ; besides, what can be the 
meaning of your extraordinary apparition in this garden ? ” 

“ Your first query is easily explained; I did receive your note, 
Catherine.” 

Lady Catherine made a gesture of surprise. 

“ Luckily,” continued Mr. Randolph, “ I met your messenger, 
dearest, at Marseilles ; for, in truth, I should have been sorely 
perplexed on arriving at Bordeaux not to find you there, so with- 
out an instant’s delay I travelled hither. Is it now Dr. Gordon’s 
opinion, Catherine, that your father will have strength enough to 
reach England ? ” 

“Dr. Gordon thinks there is slight hope. He greatly builds, I 
believe, on the beneficial effect of the sea- voyage home.” 

“ And afterwards, Catherine ? ” 

“Afterwards!” and the word faltered on her trembling lip; 
“ afterwards I shall be an orphan, desolate in a land of strangers ! ” 

“ Lord Willingham loves you dearly, Catherine ” 

A low sob burst from her lips. # 

“His loss will entail upon you severe affliction. 

“ Severe affliction ! Say rather it will be a calamity, which will 
cast its shadow over the remainder of my life ! ” exclaimed Lady 
Catherine, vehemently. 

“Dearest Catherine, do you then know none of the people 
amongst whom this terrible bereavement will probably happen ? ” 
asked Mr. Randolph, in a low voice. “ Who, then, will comfort 
and console you ? ” 

■ “ Mrs. Otway f and shall I not have Oh, Frederic, what 

mean you ? W T hy torture me thus? ” said she, in a voice of agony ; 
suddenly pausing as the thought flashed through her brain, that 
perhaps he might be there to bid her farewell forever. 

“ Catherine, have you reflected on my proposal at Venice, which 
you promised to answer ere you sailed for England ?” whispered 
Mr. Randolph, in a voice nearly as agitated as her own, seizing 
her hand, and drawing her towards him until her head rested on 
his bosom. 

Lady Catherine started. 

“Catherinej do you love me? Ay, you have said so; you 
have sworn so ; and yet you hesitate? ” exclaimed Mr. Randolph, 
impatiently, as she still continued silent. “ At this crisis, will 
you reject a love and aD affection devoted to you ? Speak! ” 


PIQUE. 


75 


Lady Catherine raised her head. Her cheek was white almost 
as the pale moonlight around, but her voice, though low, was firm. 

“ Frederic, the memory of that last interview haunts me always; 
for it was wrong in me ever to allow you to suppose I would enter- 
tain such a design. I have reflected ; I cannot consent to what 
you propose.” 

“ But your father sanctions our union ! Has he not consented ? 
Catherine, my beloved, give me the right to console; for why suf- 
fer a scruple of propriety to intervene between vows, which once 
spoken would bring such abundant consolation ? ” 

“Kemember, my father’s consent was but conditional,” mur. 
mured Lady Catherine. 

“ Perhaps the Lady Catherine Neville repents that she has 
pledged her faith to one unknown, untitled, — one, in short, whom 
report has more than once proclaimed plebeian,” said Mr. Pian- 
dolph, coldly. 

“ Frederic, why torture me thus? You know you are unjust, 
cruel ! Have I ever deserved so harsh a taunt ? ” 

“ Is your love, then, as truthful and strong, Catherine, as dur- 
ing that calm Sicilian sunset, when you plighted to me this hand ? 
Do you repent ? ” 

“ No ! I repent not of what I then promised ! To you alone 
have I given myself. Why, knowing this, you choose to continue 
mysterious still, I know not, Frederic; but, whatever be your po- 
sition, if you are such as I believe you — one whom I can rever- 
ence and honor — I am yours always!” exclaimed she, vehe- 
mently. 

“ If you love me, Catherine, as I would be loved, you place 
implicit trust in my word ; and those explanations I promised to 
satisfy the natural anxiety of your father are as nothing to you. 
Is it so, my beloved ? ” 

“ I believe you incapable of aught dishonorable.” 

“ Then trust me, Catherine, when I solemnly tell you, a mar- 
riage with me will be no derogation to your high rank ; and that 
your father, should he survive to witness its avowal, will joyfully 
gire us his sanction and blessing.” 

“Oh, if so, I entreat, conjure you, dissipate at once the mys- 
tery which surrounds you ; and then, with my father’s consent, I 
may even now be yours before we leave for England ! ” and her 
beautiful cheek glowed with eager expectation, as she glanced into 
his face. 

“If you truly love me — if you trust me, Catherine, knowing 
that Lord Willingham gives his consent to our union on conditions 


PIQUE. 


7fi 

I pledge you my sacred word shall be fulfilled, you will be mine 
without further pressing me to violate a solemn vow, — a vow 
which ensures the personal safety, nay, perhaps, the life of another, 
and which binds me to secrecy on all concerning myself during 
the next six months. Think of the agony of our separation for so 
long a period ; during which, I could not comfort or console you ! 
Imagine the torment of knowing you far away from me, so young, 
so fair, beset with suitors, and I without a legal claim to silence 
their presumptuous hopes! Dear Catherine, if you indeed lovo 
me, doom me not to such agonizing suspense ! Let a secret tie 
now bind us ” 

“ I dare not. No, no ! Shall I give the right, the power, to any 
man living to draw me from my highest duty of consoling my dear 
father, and watching by his bed during the few hours which 
remain to him here ? Shall I be guilty of such treachery? ” 
“Nay, hearken, Catherine; if you yield to my prayer, I sol- 
emnly promise you shall be free from wedded law until I publicly 
claim you as my bride.” 

Lady Catherine trembled violently. Suddenly she started from 
her seat, while every nerve quivered with excitement. 

“•This cannot be, Frederic!” exclaimed she, with desperate 
courage. “lam the last of an ancient, a noble line ; it would 
be criminal — nay, worse than criminal— even believing you as I 
do, worthy, honorable, and akin to the noblest of my ancestors, — 

to give their honors to one unknown, and ” 

“ An adventurer, you would say, Lady Catherine Neville. Your 
own conscience shall now decide whether my test has not exposed 
the little sincerity of your affection. You do well, indeed, to refuse 
the suit of a man, in whose truth and integrity you have not the 
firmest confidence,” replied Mr. Randolph, haughtily. 

“ Forgive me. I meant not this ! ’ exclaimed she. 

‘ ‘ Catherine, dear Catherine, I love you too sincerely, too deeply, 
to urge you to any act prejudicial to your welfare,” said Mr. Ran- 
dolph, as he fondly kissed the agitated brow of his betrothed. “ I 
relied so much on my influence with you, and your affection for 
me, dearest, that — thinking at this critical period you would not re- 
fuse the protection of one chosen by yourself, and sanctioned by your 
father as your husband — I even presumed to make preparation 
for our instant marriage; my friend Mr. Clare — whom you may 
remember, Catherine — awaits us in the cathedral, the temple of 
God. Let us go to him, dearest ! ” 

“ Tempt me not ! I cannot — I dare not ! ” exclaimed Lady 
Catherine, passionately, sinking again on the seat, while tears 


PIQUE. 


77 


dropped fast on her white dress. She raised her eyes imploringly, 
and saw such an expression of keen reproach on her lover’s face 
that she involuntarily buried her own in her hands. 

“ Catherine,” said he at length, jn low, earnest tones, “you dis- 
trust, reject, banish me from you ! May you never wish the events 
of this evening recalled! Farewell. When I also visit England, 
perhaps it may be to find you the bride of another — of him, 
doubtless, whom you have probably now summoned to your aid.” 

Astonishment, for a second, checked the sobs which shook Lady 
Catherine’s frame. 

‘ Lord Alresford ! You surely know he is engaged to another,” 
murmured she, faintly. 

“Yet he loves you deeply, fervently, Lady Catherine.” 

She shook her head, incredulously. 

“ Perhaps you also deceive yourself as to your feelings towards 
him! Farewell, Catherine !” said Mr. Randolph, in low, mourn- 
ful accents, as he folded her to his bosom, and pressed his lips 
to hers ; they were cold as marble. He then replaced her on 
the bench, and after gazing on her a moment, moved away. She 
uttered a low cry — and his name burst from her lips. He was 
instantly at her side. 

“ Leave me not. I know not what I say or do. I am very mis- 
erable,” uttered she, in low, unsteady tones, sweeping her hand 
across her brow. “ Frederic ! ” said she, earnestly, “ this evening 
I swear to become yours — now tell me this mystery.” 

A bright smile of hope and exultation beamed on Mr. Ran- 
dolph’s face. 

“ A few months from this period, I will meet you again under 
your own roof of Wardour Court, to claim you openly ; then you 
shall know all. Till then, let it suffice, you, dearest, that I love 
you beyond the power of words to express! Now, my Catherine, 
as you have given yourself irrevocably to me, come — let us hasten, 
or Mrs. Otway will be alarmed at your long absence,” exclaimed 
Mr. Randolph, hastily folding her shawl about her, and throwing 
his arm around her waist. Ere she had time for remonstrance or 
hesitation, he swiftly carried rather than led her, through an aper- 
ture cut in the hedge, carefully hidden by straggling branches, and 
in a very brief space they stood before a low, narrow door-way, nearly 
concealed by one of the projecting buttresses of the magnificent 
cathedral of Narbonne. 

“Stay, Frederic, stay!” exclaimed Lady Catherine, breath- 
lessly, laying her hand upon Mr. Randolph’s arm, already out- 
stretched to push back the door — “one minute ' What is your 
7 * 


78 


PIQUE. 


real — your true name ? ” and she darted a piercing look of inquiry 
into his face. 

Mr. Randolph smiled ; he fondly took the little hand resting so 
nervously on his arm, and carried it to his lips. 

“Be at peace, dear one. ifandolph is, indeed, my own, my true 
name. Why should you doubt it? ” 

“ And the whole of it ? ” persisted Lady Catherine, very ear- 
nestly. 

At this moment the door yielded to his touch, and they stood 
within the majestic cathedral. The transepts and side aisles were 
enveloped in gloom, but the clear moonbeams shone through the 
rich painted windows, and checkered the marble pavement of the 
choir with luminous patches of crimson, amber, and blue. The 
bases of many of the columns dividing the nave from the aisles 
were also bathed in soft radiance, fitfully streaming up the fluted 
shafts, while the graceful pointed arches soaring one above the 
other were lost in shadowy obscurity, and the eye vainly sought to 
penetrate the gloomy vastness beyoud. Lady Catherine stood gaz- 
ing with a feeling of solemn awe. All around appeared wrapped 
in calm, immovable repose ; and she involuntarily clung closer to 
her lover’s arm, as their shadows glided mysteriously, swiftly be- 
fore them on the pavement, and the soft light trembled in strange 
relief on each marble statue in its sculptured niche as they 

you fear, dearest, to await me here for a few brief mo- 
ments ?” whispered Mr. Randolph, as they reached the high altar ; 
and Lady Catherine sank on the steps overpowered with mingled 
awe, and secret apprehension. 

She silently bowed her head, and Mr. Randolph vanished from 
her side. For a second or two she sat spellbound where he left 
her ; a kind of mysterious panic seemed gradually creeping over 
her senses, and she involuntarily shuddered, and hid her face in 
the folds of her shawl. Presently she threw it from her, and 
gazed nervously around. Beyond the choir all appeared a long, 
dark, interminable vista of gloom. Just before her, at a few 
yards distance, exactly before the high altar, arose a magnificent 
mausoleum of white marble. She arose and approached nearer. 
Around were bas reliefs sculptured in marble, and the moon’s rays 
rendered the figures strikingly prominent. The subject on which 
the artist appeared to have lavished so much skill, was a funeral 
cortege ; the stately convoy, the train of mourners, male and fe- 
male, in their long, flowing mantles and hoods, the pompous fu- 
neral car, the blazing torches, were all depicted with vivid distinct 


passed. 


PIQUE. 


79 


ness. On one side of the tomb was an inscription in large golden 
Gothic letters. Lady Catherine read in a gaze fascinated into 
steadiness — 


“ SEPULCRUM BON.E MEMORISE 

Philippi, 

QUONDAM FrANCORUM ReGIS, 

FlLII BEATI LuDOVICI. ,, 

Upon the tomb lay a recumbent figure of the monarch. The 
moonbeams lighted up the features distinctly; but so calm and 
phantom-like did the pale effigy appear, bathed in the clustering 
rays, that she stood gazing upon it almost spellbound. 

Gradually, her beautiful head sank on the tomb. A few min- 
utes thus elapsed, and the Lady Catherine was roused from her 
painful reverie by the sound of approaching footsteps ; and soon 
she discovered — she scarcely knew how, so rapid had been the 
transition — that her tears no longer flowed on the chill marble, 
but her cheek rested on the bosom of her lover, and Mr. Randolph’s 
lips murmured words of love and encouragement in her ear. 

“ Catherine, my beloved! all is ready, and Air. Clare awaits us. 
Come ! ” 

“ Oh, Frederic, Frederic! must this — must this really be? Do 
you, indeed, exact so fearful a proof of love ? ” exclaimed she, in 
low tones of extreme distress. 

“ Exact ! no, Catherine. But is it possible a few brief moments 
have again shaken your confidence in me ? ” said Mr. Randolph, 
mournfully. 

“No, no,” murmured she, hurriedly; “yet strange thoughts 
flitted across me during your absence. My father ” 

“ Has given his consent ; is it not so, my Catherine? therefore 
we violate no duty by these our hasty espousals,” exclaimed Mr. 
Randolph, once more throwing his arm round her. 

Gently, though resolutely, he led her forwards, and in a few sec- 
onds they stood within a small chapel, brilliantly illumined by the 
glare of some half dozen torches. It was the chapel dedicated to 
St. Charles Borromeo — that holy and saintly bishop, who, during 
the awful pestilence in Alilan, held his life cheap, so that he might 
win souls to God ; and who, by his heavenly charity and priestly 
benediction, soothed the dying agonies of many a poor penitent, 
when the majority of the priesthood, scared by the frightful mor- 
tality, fled from the devoted city, deserting their flocks, theii 


80 


PIQUE. 


bishop, and the few courageous brethren who nobly remained to 
share his fate, and aid his pious labors. 

Lady Catherine threw a hasty, bewildered glance around. She 
perceived that, besides Mr. Clare, who had once been introduced 
to her before as a clergyman of the Church of England, and Mr. 
Randolph’s former tutor, and travelling companion and friend, 
there were two or three persons present. Mr. Clare, arrayed 
in priestly vestments, hastily advanced towards them as they 
entered ; he said something, but nearly sinking to the ground in 
agitation and excitement, she heard not its purport. Mr. Ran- 
dolph hurriedly threw his arm round her, and motioning to Mr. 
Clare, led her to a low square block of stone in the centre of the 
chapel, on which rested an open book. Soon, solemn words fell in 
low, emphatic accents from the lips of Mr. Clare. Lady Cathe- 
rine, with her head bowed low, and her small hands clasped 
together, stood by, or rather leaned on him to whom she was about 
to vow unswerving fidelity. Not a tear moistened her eyes, and 
their long lashes rested on a cheek flushed, and burning with 
fevered agitation. Mechanically she repeated the words required of 
her ; but not even at the voice of him she loved so well, did she 
venture to raise her eyes. The whole appeared a dream ; her 
head swam, and the hot blood rushed to her brow. The words 
presently ceased ; — a paper was laid before her, a pen placed be- 
tween her trembling fingers, and she was told to write her name. 
His voice murmured the request ; she instinctively obeyed, and it 
was all over. The Lady Catherine Neville, Lord Willingham’s 
proud, beautiful heiress, had plighted her faith to one unknown ! 

Gradually, then, the vivid color faded from her cheek, as she 
fell back into Mr. Randolph’s arms ; her fair head drooped, and 
she fainted. 

When Lady Catherine revived, she found herself on the same 
rustic bench in the garden which she had sought on quitting Mrs. 
Otway ; then, little thinking, in the lightness of her heart, as she 
tripped so joyously along the orange-bo we red walk, that the follow- 
ing hour was to be the hour of her destiny ; the hour which would 
color all her future ones ; the harbinger of weal or woe ; of bliss 
to come, or of misery irretrievable. A gentle breeze had sprung 
up, and the soft night wind murmured, and crept with rustling 
sound amid the beautiful foliage, and wafted around the delicious 
perfume of the rich southern vegetation. 

And she lay in her husband’s arms and wept ; wept as if her 
whole heart would dissolve itself in tears. 


PIQUE. 


81 


The cathedral clock struck eleven. They had just been absent 
half an hour from the garden. 

Lady Catherine started. 

“ Mrs. Otway will be seeking me. Dear Frederic, you must 
suffer me to say farewell ! Indeed, I need repose. Think of the 
■wearing anxiety of the last four months,” exclaimed she, falter- 
ingly, striving to disengage herself from his arms. 

“One moment longer, Catherine, my own, — my wife ! Listen! 
I must see you secretly and frequently after your return to Eng- 
land. Will you promise, by the love you have vowed, that when 
y ou receive the remaining portion of this clasp, you will meet me 
wherever I indicate ? ” and Mr. Randolph hastily passed round 
the slender throat of his bride a thin gold chain. A ppended to 
it was a small circular clasp, in fashion resembling the ancient 
Roman fibula, or brooch, richly studded with diamonds and sap- 
phires. In the centre, Mr. Randolph’s cipher was wrought in 
jewels ; but between the initial letters, so as to divide them ex- 
actly in the middle, was a tiny medallion of fine blue enamel, 
surrounded by a wreath of diamonds, bearing the single letter “ C.” 

“ Indeed, dear Frederic, I promise faithfully. It will be the 
only consolation left to me,” murmured Lady Catherine, as Mr. 
Randolph divided the clasp. She hastily hid the part hanging to 
the chain in her bosom ; and they moved slowly towards the house. 

“You will stay and see dear papa?” said Lady Catherine, 
hesitatingly, raiding her earnest eyes to his face. 

“ Certainly, my love. I will go with you and shake hands 
with Mrs. Otway this evening, and to-morrow I hope to see Lord 
Willingham.” 

“ And, Frederic, I have another thing to mention,” said Lady 
Catherine, pausing suddenly, and blushing. “ I shall be obliged 
to write and summon Lord Alresford hither immediately. Papa 
is continually asking for him ; and Mrs. Otway reminded me of it 
this evening.” 

A slight, a very slight shadow darkened Mr. Randolph’s hand- 
some brow. 

“ Lord Alresford is your father’s executor, Catherine, I believe. 
Summon him then, dearest, if you judge it necessary,” said he, 
after a pause. 

They had now nearly reached the house ; a clump of shrubs 
and evergreens, around which the walk wound, separated them 
only from the steps of the balcony. All at once the sound of 
Mrs. Otway’s shrill voice, summoning the Lady Catherine in more 
agitating accents than was her wont, smote on their ear, as they 


82 


PIQUE. 


still lingered .arm-in-arm, unwilling to suffer aught to interrupt 
the deep happiness which filled their hearts. 

“ Mrs. Otway ! ” exclaimed Lady Catherine, darting forwards. 
On the steps she met her friend. “ Here I am, dear Mrs. Otway. 
Oh ! what is it ? Tell me — quick ! ” 

“Oh, nothing very urgent, my dear. Nay, Catherine, pray do 
not frighten yourself, my dearest love,” exclaimed the old lady, 
imploringly; though she appeared herself very fluttered and un- 
comfortable. 

“ My father ! ” • 

“ Well, I see I had best tell you at once. Dr. Gordon, my 
dear, considers within this last hour a most unfavorable change 
has taken place in your father’s condition ; and he thinks Lord 
Alresford ought to be sent for immediately. Shall I write, my 
dear, whilst you go to Lord Willingham ? You will find a sad, 
sad change. Oh ! my Catherine, what a troublous world this is 
of ours ! ” said kind Mrs. Otway, while tears slowly streamed 
down her cheeks. 

Lady Catherine did not utter a sound, but sank against the 
balustrade. 

“ Bless me ! Mr. Bandolph ! Is it possible ? ” suddenly cried 
Mrs. Otway, starting forwards and looking as if she harbored a 
strong suspicion she was addressing some supernatural visitant. 

“ Yes, ’t is I, indeed, Mrs. Otway; and, though unexpected, I 
trust not the less welcome.” # 

“ Indeed, Mr. Randolph, we are truly glad to see you,” said 
the old lady, advancing, and extending her hand ; “ though I fear, 
under our present circumstances, we can but give you a mournful 
welcome. Ah, I perceive what has detained that dear child out 
so late, until her cheek rivals the lily,” added she, watching Lady 
Catherine’s wavering color and languid eye. 

The door of the sitting-room here sharply opened, and Dr. 
Gordon appeared. 

“ Mrs. Otway, where is Lady Catherine Neville? She ought 
to be immediately informed of the very serious alteration in his 
lordship’s condition,” said he, hurriedly, disappearing again. 

Lady Catherine instantly arose. 

“ To-morrow,” murmured she, as Mr. Randolph for a second 
bent over her and pressed her hand in his. “ But you will not be 

far, if if ” her pale lip quivered, and she hastily quitted 

the room. 

Twenty- four hours elapsed, and Lord Willingham was dead. 


PIQUE. 


83 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“ WnAT a nuisance a wet day is in the country! Do you think 
it will clear up, Sir Gerard?” exclaimed Miss Effingham, strolling 
towards one of the windows before taking her seat at the breakfast- 
table, on the day but one following her walk in the park with her 
betrothed. 

“ The morning does not certainly look very promising as yet, 
but I see a feeble gleam to the right yonder, over that fir planta- 
tion, which appears as if the sun were lingering but for a favorable 
moment to drive these provoking clouds away ; so I think there 13 
hope yet, Miss Effingham,” replied Sir Gerard approaching the 
window, and gazing out also on the dreary morning. 

The rain fell in swift, bright drops on the large panes ; and the 
wind, with gusty murmur, swayed here and there the green boughs, 
and piteously tossed the beautiful shrubs on the smooth lawn, 
fresh and verdant from the torrents which had fallen in the night 
as during the earliest days of spring. The air was warm, and 
fragrant with the refreshing vapor steaming from the heated, 
parched earth, and a thick, drizzling kind of mist hung over the 
lake and the distant glades and avenues of the park. In short, 
never did morning of more unpromising aspect dawn, and gentle 
Xady Elvaston, though she loved the blue sky and bright sun as 
well, or better, than most people, never felt more thankful in her 
life than when she first awoke and heard the wind blow and the 
rain drip and patter ; while Aglae, in answer to her eager queries 
on the state of the elements, when she came to open the bedroom 
shutters, replied, — 

“ Ah, miledi, this is quite an English morning, — wet, drarie, 
and dismal.” 

“ Such a contrast to the last three or four beautiful days,” 
moaned Mildred, still at the window. 

Sir Gerard appeared highly amused at her despairing accents. 

“Iam sure Miss Tennyson ought to be highly flattered at the 
interest you take in her picnic, — or what shall I call it ? If she 
carries her friends off to Fernley this dripping day, I hope her 
conscience may not be burdened by their rheumatic pains and 
aches, as I feel mine to be by the sufferings of your pretty friend, 
Helen Campbell. I must run down to Grcysdon, as soon as break- 
fast is over, and try and make my peace with Mrs. Campbell.” 

“ It really was very thoughtless of you, Sir Gerard, to keep her 
out so late in the boat the other evening, without even the protec- 


84 


PIQUE. 


tion of an extra wrapper. Poor Helen is as hoarse as a raven this 
morning, and was so feverish besides last night, that I began to 
be seriously uncomfortable. 

“You do not surely mean to tell me Miss Campbell is worse 
this morning?” exclaimed Sir Gerard, with ccnsiderable anxiety 
expressed on his handsome, good-humored face. 

“ No, — cn the contrary, I am rejoiced to say she is decidedly 
better. 1 have just been to see her, and have given her leave to 
come down stairs by lunch- time ; so pray do not look so unhappy. 
Sir Gerard ; but when she makes her appearance do your best to 
show your contrition by making yourself as useful and agreeable 
to our dear invalid as possible,” said Mildred, laughing. 

“ You shall sec what a capital nurse I can make. But you are 
placing monstrous confidence in my honor; for if you render the 
punishment so very pleasant, I fear I shall be sorely tempted to 
repeat my offence. Miss Campbell is so very good-natured and 
amiable.” 

“ Good-natured and amiable ! I have a great mind to quarrel 
with you seriously, Sir Gerard, for using such very commonplace 
terms in your commendation of my friend. Helen Campbell is 
an angel ; and as good as she is pretty and refined ! ” exclaimed 
Mildred. 

“And I am sure, also, she has a noble, generous-hearted friend; 
which is a boon that falls to few,” rejoined Sir Gerard, warmly. « 

“ See, there is a little break in the clouds yonder, and they 
appear altogether less dense and compact ; a gloomy morning is 
often followed by a sunshiny day. 1 shall be so delighted for 
Clara Tennyson’s sake, who would be wofully disappointed at the 
failure of this riding party; especially as she did not see you 
when she called, Sir Gerard,” said Mildred, blushing. 

“ But you know I must stay at home and nurse Miss Campbell, 
in spite of the regrets of the divine Clara ! ” 

“You will have your revenge. Sir Gerard ; for, luckily, Mildred 
must likewise stay and aid you, of course, since this rainy morning 
puts the Fernley expedition quite out of the question. But, my 
dear Mildred, breakfast is quite ready. I wish you would take 
your post and pour out the coffee,” said Lady Elvaston. 

“ Clara will never give up the expedition for this slight rain, 
mamma; the clouds are breaking, and I predict we shall have 
glorious sunshine at noon,” said Miss Effingham, casting one 
lingering look over the misty landscape, as she slowly moved from 
the window. “ Think how splendid the old trees behind the 
Abbey will look, glistening with rain-drops! and how romantic it 


riQUE. 


85 


will be! Clara will be in raptures ! ” exclaimed she, with a light 
laugh. 

“Oh, doubtless she will ; you should add also Miss Effingham, 
when all her party stand huddled together in a picturesque group, 
wet to the skin. The ladies, with their veils and fair ringlet3 
dabbled in rain, and the ground sinking like a bog at every step ! 
How charming to alight and perambulate, umbrella in hand-, the 
grassy courts and cloisters of the Abbey ! ” 

“ Really, Sir Gerard, you always contrive to draw such ridicu- 
lous pictures,” said Mildred, with a laugh; though Sir Gerard 
fancied it was not so unconstrained as usual. “ You know very 
well we need be reduced to none of these deplorable straits. 
Could we not' have the carriage, mamma, to follow us to the 
Abbey in case of any desperate extremity?” 

Lady Elvaston hesitated ; she had never been in the habit of 
opposing or offering any impediment to the wishes of her only and 
idolized child ; but now she felt herself waxing strong in opposi- 
tion to a scheme which would again throw her darling Mildred 
into the society of the fascinating Colonel Sutherland. 

“ Certainly, my dear Mildred, the carriage is at your disposal; 
but, indeed, I cannot consent to your endangering your precious 
health by this foolish project of Clara Tennyson’s. I shall, there- 
fore, write a note immediately after breakfast, and despatch it to 
Settringham with your excuses, my love,” replied Lady Elvaston, 
firmly. 

Mildred’s color rose ; she continued sipping her coffee ; but 
there lurked a calm determination in her eye, which did not escape 
the notice of Sir Gerard Baynton, who was sitting beside her, 

“ Clara Tennyson has always some ridiculous fancies and 
schemes. Poor girl ! she thinks they make her of importance. 
But it is quite out of the question your thinking of going to-day, 
Mildred. I cannot conceive what novelty you find in these ruins. 
I bekeve I have ridden with you there some hundred times; so, 
my dear Milly, do not distress us by talking about it more,” 
exclaimed Lord Elvaston, looking up from his paper. 

“But, dearest papa, I promised Clara so very faithfully; and, 
cee, the weather is clearing, and the sun actually struggling down 
to dry up this deluge. We shall have such a delightful ride. 
Pray let me go ! ” exclaimed Mildred, caressingly, in those tones 
her indulgent father could never resist; while Lady Elvaston, 
finding her daughter had farmed one of her energetic resolves, 
ceased to offer any very strenuous opposition. 

“Come, Alresford, your coffee and grill will be cold before you 
8 


86 


PIQUE. 


have finished the perusal of that heap of letters. I hope you have 
good news from Wardour Court of your pretty ward, Lady Cathe- 
rine Neville?” said Lord Elvaston, addressing the Earl; who, 
since the arrival of the post-bag, leant in the embrasure of the 
opposite window to that where Mildred had stationed herself, 
busily reading his numerous letters. Sir Gerard fancied — though, 
to be sure, he might be mistaken — that his friend, for reasons 
known only to himself, found more interest in watching the actions 
of the fair young girl before him, than in the delicate closely- 
written pages in his hand. 

“ Thank you ; Lady Catherine is quite well ; though she writes 
iu depressed spirits, for her friend Mrs. Otway has been seriously 
indisposed,” replied Lord Alresford, pushing aside his letters, 
and taking the vacant chair near Lady Elvaston, “ I really must 
apologize for my inattention. Lady Elvaston.” 

“ Pray, do not think that necessary.” 

“ May I now inquire, Mildred, what this expedition is, on which 
you appear so steadfastly resolved ? ” said Lord Alresford, with a 
smile, rising and bringing his cup to her. 

Mildred did not, could not speak. She silently filled the cup, 
and hastily withdrew her fair hand, as it momentarily came in 
contact with that of her betrothed. There could now no longer 
be any reasonable doubt as to the Earl’s intimacy with the mis- 
tress of Wardour Court. They corresponded ! The hand of Lady 
Catherine had filled those miniature sheets of paper with lines 
written closely and finely, as with the pen of a fairy. "Who could 
pretend now to deny their intimacy? No, not even her sceptical 
friend Helen Campbell ! 

Meanwhile, the day was clearing. The heavy clouds burst, and 
rolled gradually away, and the damp gray mist vanished. First, 
one little gleam of sunshine rested on the summit of the distant 
hills, then another fell aslant on the dull, angry looking water of 
the lake. Presently a tiny morsel of the most luminous azure 
peeped from beneath the dense leaden expanse above ; another few 
minutes, and the bright beams struggled and poured downwards, 
and the pale blue sky became dappled by fleecy masses, which 
sailed onwards and onwards, until they dissolved in the clear 
ether. As Mildred predicted, the heavens by noon bade fair to be 
a perfect blaze of splendor, — and she was more resolved than ever 
on her expedition. 

“ Look, look, mamma ! I told you we should still bask in 
another lovely day,” cried she, triumphantly, trying to evade Lord 
Alresford’s question, pointing to a brilliant ray which fell that 
instant on the crimson Bohemian glais on the breakfast-table. 


PIQUE. 


87 


“ The day appears to have taken a most unexpected turn, my 
love ; but still I believe you will find it very damp and disagree- 
able amongst the ruins ; and Fernley is so shaded by trees. But, 
Mildred, if you are resolved to go, have you requested Lord 
Alresford’s escort? for you cannot ride alone, my dear, and I 
fear your father has other engagements this morning,” said Lady 
Elvaston, determined upon making another effort 

Lord Alresford repeated his question ; and this time Sir Gerard 
Baynton answered, — 

“ The state of the case is this : Miss Effingham fears to be 
moped to death in the house, doomed to the society of two such 
very unentertaining companions as you and I ; and therefore, in 
spite of the elements, insists on joining a party to Fernley Abbey 
planned by that very enterprising young lady Miss Tennyson. 
Now, Alresford, you are quite au fait in the matter.” 

“Although I think it very unreasonable of you, Mildred, not 
to yield to youi mother’s wishes, and defer the ride until a more 
propitious day ; yet, if you have any especial motive for joining 
Miss Tennyson’s party, I shall have great pleasure in accompany- 
ing you,” said Lord Alresford gently, fixing his earnest eyes on 
her face. 

Mildred blushed, and turned away with an uncomfortable sen- 
sation at her heart. Especial motive ! Had she not only one 
little week to decide on the most momentous event of her life ! 
And three days were already expired ! 

Ah, Mildred, — Mildred ! Why were you like those foolish 
ones who blindly reject the good, the happiness, God invariably 
places sometime in his children’s path, in search of that vague 
chimera imagination always pictures, though never realizes ? 

Mildred’s principles, however, were too upright, too honorable, 
to permit her to accept the offer of the Earl’s escort, knowing what 
her secret object in the expedition was ; but this, again, involved 
her in fresh perplexity. 

“I fear the morning is rather damp and unpleasant for those 
who have lately been accustomed to a inoie genial climate, there- 
fore, I should be so very sorry to force you to this gallop over 
our bleak hills,” said she, hesitatingly. “ I dare say Archibald 
Campbell is going, — though are you quite sure, dear papa, you 
could not spare me this afternoon ? ” 

“ Quite impossible, my dear Mild rod. I am going to ride to 
Burlington to transact business with my bailiff,” replied Lord 
Elvaston, abruptly. 

Lord Alresford instinctively perceived some mystery lurked 
behind Mildred’s embarrassment. 


88 


PIQUE. 


“ And of whom does this party consist ? ” asked he, coldly. 

“ Of the Settringham family, Miss Vincent, Mr. and Mrs. 
Farnleigh, Mr. Frank Norwood, Colonel Sutherland, Captain 
Vansittart, Mr. Archibald Campbell, and some others whom I 
forget,” replied Lady Elvaston, promptly ; for from the very first 
day of the Earl’s arrival she had wisely resolved that no reserve, 
no mystery, on her part, should shield her daughter’s movements 
from the observation of the man she so earnestly wished to see 
her united to ; and his respect, and her influence were thereby 
increased tenfold. 

“ Sir Gerard, I suppose you, at least, intend to go,” said Miss 
Effingham, after a pause, rising, with heightened color, from the 
breakfast-table. 

“ Yes, certainly, if I am back from Greysdon in time. You 
remember, I have first to call on Mrs. Campbell with a bulletin of 
her daughter’s health. I will set off immediately. Alresford, you 
will ride with us? ” • 

“ I must beg to be excused. I have letters to write which will 
not admit of delay,” replied the Earl, frigidly. 

And Mildred felt that the better understanding and greater 
cordiality subsisting between them, since their evening walk, had 
vanished. 

“ Well, Milly, remember I neither sanction nor approve of this 
expedition. I think it a most foolish affair; just as if people 
cannot eat their luncheon quietly and comfortably at home, instead 
of sitting shivering and shaking under some damp hedge, and 
giving themselves all manner of pains and aches. Mind, if you 
will be so silly, I absolutely lay my strict veto that you shall not 
sit down on the grass,” grumbled Lord Elvaston, throwing aside 
the newspaper. “ Don’t you think she would be much better at 
home, Alresford ? ” 

“ It is impossible to give an opinion. Mildred must be the best 
judge of how far her promise to join this party will be considered 
binding,” replied the Earl, calmly. 

“ Nay, but dear papa, I will be so very, very careful ; do not 
be alarmed. I will wrap myself up so well, aud Aglae, to please 
you, shall send all kinds of safeguards against wind and rain ; 
only you must not look so grave, and shake your head as the ugh 
you thought that, instead of enjoying a good bracing canter, i 
was about to rush into some terrible danger,” exclaimed Mildred, 
pausing behind her father’s chair, and throwing her arms round 
his neck, while her pretty eyes smiled and beamed lovingly on 
his. 


PIQUE. 


# 

89 

“You little sorceress ! ” said Lord Elvaston, fondly patting her 
cheek. “ After all, I believe I shall be obliged to ride with you, 
and take care of you myself.” 

“ Oh, papa, it will be so very, very kipd of you.” 

“ But mind if I go, Mildred, no persuasion on earth shall in* 
duce me to touch a particle of her ladyship’s nonsensical luncheon; 
and I must be home again by three.” 

“Very well, papa. We are to join the party at the ruins. I 
wrote to Clara yesterday, begging her not to call for me, as it was 
uncertain wheu we should be able to set out. Now I must go and 
talk with Helen,” exclaimed Miss Effingham, bounding from the 
room. 

About half an hour afterwards, ready equipped for her excur- 
sion, she entered poor Helen’s darkened chamber. 

“Well, my darling Helen, how do you feel after breakfast? 

I am come to have just half an hour’s chat with you, before we set 
off for Fernley. I trust Aglae has been very attentive, and brought 
you everything you could wish ? ” said Mildred, sinking into a 
chair by the bedside, and tossing her riding-hat nonchalantly from 
her head, — much to the detriment of the smooth braids which 
Aglae, taking into consideration the humid state of the atmos- 
phere, had substituted for her usual flowing curls. 

“ I am much better, and have made a most excellent breakfast. 
And so you are going to Fernley, dearest,” continued she, in a 
tone of regret. “ I heard a most deplorable account of the weather 
— do, pray, draw the curtain, and let me judge for myself.” 

Mildred arose, and did as she was requested. 

“ Sec, it has turned out quite a bright, lovely morning; not at 
all too hot to make a ride of seven miles uncomfortable. But 
Helen, I am so pleased you are better ; and so will Sir Gerard 
Baynton be also, I will answer for it. You have no idea how 
miserable he seemed about you this morning ; and so penitent for 
having persuaded you to stay out late on the water. Ah, my dear, 
imprudent, demure Helen, I foresee now, I shall soon have to 
lecture you on the impropriety of aiming such sudden darts, look- 
ing all the time so modest and prettily behaved.” 

“Really, Mildred, you are too absurd! Sir Gerard is very 
good natured, and appears ready to be obliging and kind to every- 
body,” said Helen, blushing a very little. 

“ Yes, and you will have such a charming mother-in-law to 
guide you in your duties at the Chauntry,” continued Mildred, 
laughing. “ Lady Emily is everything a woman of rank ought to 
be, you know ; and measured by the Earl’s standard, she cannot 


90 


PIQUE. 


fall far short of angelic perfection. I generally remark, Helen,— 
and I will say it *n spite of your blushes, — that when people 
begin to find out < aey are mutually amiable, good-natured, and 
agreeable, they end at last in discovering multitudes of other good 
and charming qualities.” 

“ Do they ! ” cried Helen, smiling. “ Now, Mildred, I can 
fairly turn the tables. You remember you told me the other day, 
how very amiable and agreeable you found the Earl during your 
tete-a-tete ; now, mind, 1 shall look to you to work out your own 
prophecy. But, to be serious, who rides with you this morning to 
Bernlcy ? ” 

“ Papa, Sir Gerard, and Archibald, constitute my staff, Helen,” 
replied Mildred, turning away her head. 

“And not Lord Alresford? Oh, Mildred, think what effect 
this continued defiance of his wishes must at length produce 1 
Tell me, did you not ask him to ride with you ? or how did it 
happen ?” 

“ The truth is, Helen, when he offered me his escort, my con- 
science would not allow me promptly to accept of it, knowing I 
was deliberately seeking an interview with a man whom he dis- 
approves. Mamma afterwards mentioned that Colonel Sutherland 
was amongst Sir Bichard’s guests, and then his lordship coldly 
and decisively declined to be of the party ; and now all is dark 
between us ; dark as ever ! ” exclaimed Mildred, coloring. 

“ Mildred,” said Helen, earnestly, “give up this party. What 
can it signify to Lord Alresford’s betrothed wufe to sound Colonel 
Sutherland’s sentiments ? If he has been trifling with you, why 
voluntarily submit to the humiliation of listening to such an 
avowal? and if his passion is sincere, consider, as you tell me 
you are firmly resolved on fulfilling your engagement, what addi- 
tional struggles you doom yourself to encounter, when ” 

“ Cease, Helen ! I am firmly resolved to ascertain this day, 
whether I have been the sport, the toy of an unprincipled man. or 
the object of a sincere, long-suppressed passion. It may be foolish, 
— it may be rash, but I am determined ! and if it proves to be tho 
former, what a lesson, — what a warning will it be to me through 
life ; one more effectual than all the Earl’s exhortations ! ** ex- 
claimed Mildred, vehemently, her lips becoming very pale. 

“ But should he profess the latter, Mildred, what then ? 

“ Then, at least, I shall have the consolation of knowing 1 
am not the poor dupe you, Helen, and all tie rest of the world 
imagine,” replied Mildred, smiling bitterly. 

“ I know, while yov are in this mood, it is vain to argue the 


PIQUE. 


91 


point any longer, Mildred, so I will forbear,” said Helen, sorrow- 
fully, sinking back on her pillow. 

“If 'I resist persuasion from your lips, Helen, you must feel 
how necessary it is to my happiness to have this point cleared up ; 
and, Helen, perhaps ’t is of no less vital consequence to the Earl 
also ; should the result prove that he can honorably stand clear of 
his engagement to a girl to whom he even did not think it requisite 
to announce his intended arrival at her father’s house. Who 
knows but that in his next letter to Wardour Court, in reply to 
the long one he received this morning, he may announce joyous 
tidings to the Lady Catherine Neville.” 

“ Excuse me, Mildred, but I know in your heart you do not 
believe a syllable of what you have just said,” replied Helen, 
calmly. “ If Lord Alresford were desirous of offering his hand 
to Lady Catherine, a single word would release him from his 
engagements to your family ; he could not hesitate, on the score 
of your affection being compromised, as your manner, whether 
assumed or not, must soon satisfy him on this point. But, Mil- 
dred, I am also certain, if Lord Alresford does not offer Lady 
Catherine’s letter for your perusal, it will be your own fault.” 

“Oh, if I could only believe so!” murmured Mildred, tears 
springing to her eyes. 

“ Only try, Mildred. What did Lord Alresford say the other 
evening — • only let me respect my wife’ — well, force him to do 
so! Is it not worth a trial ? Can you compare Colonel Suther- 
land to him in intellect, worth, honorable feeling, personal appear- 
ance — in fact, anything ? ” 

“All this is true — perfectly — I cannot deny it!” murmured 
Mildred, covering her face with both her hands. 

Miss Effingham did not speak again for some moments. 

“ If I go astray, Helen, dearest, after your admonitions, I shall, 
indeed, deserve all the penalties it may entail ; but go I must to- 
day, and meet Sutherland. Nay, do not look so grave, Helen, it 
shall be the last time I grieve your heart; and if I find he has 
trifled with me — if the report of his engagement be correct ” 

“ You will then learn to love Lord Alresford, who has been so 
true in his attachment, as sincerely as your imagination is now 
smitten by the Colonel’s worthless flatteries,” interposed Helen. 

“ Would you wish me so miserable, Helen, as to love without 
the chance of such a return as would alone satisfy me? But how 
selfish I have been, talking and exciting you in this manner ! and * 
how bad your cough seems. I will ring immediately and prescribe 
a dose of ipecacuanha. Let me arrange these pillows more com- 


92 


PIQUE. 


fortably— 'try this way, darling ; there, now your head looks as if 
it rested more easily. When Aglae comes, I must say adieu, for 
I hear the horses are brought round to the hall-door, and dear 
papa grows always impatient if I am not punctual to a second. 
Here she comes ! ” 

Aglae was the bearer of a very urgent message from Lord Elvas- 
ton, admonishing his daughter that it was more than a quarter 
past the time she had fixed to set off ; and, after some moments 
spent in the necessary readjustment of her toilette, Mildred de- 
scended to the drawing-room. 

Lady Elvaston received in silence her daughter’s parting em- 
brace ; as, to confess the strict truth, she felt thoroughly indig- 
nant. Mildred timidly paused one very brief second as she passed 
the couch on which Lori Alresford quietly lounged, absorbed in a 
new publication that morning received from town ; but as his 
lordship did not vouchsafe to raise his very handsome eyes from 
his book, or to manifest any token that he was aware of her pres- 
ence, she hurriedly quitted the room. 

Lady Elvaston arose and approached the window. 

“ I cannot express how this strange, wayward infatuation of 
Mildred’s pains and grieves me ! It is so inexcusable — so utterly 
unlike her ! ” said she, in a voice of deep feeling, as the party can- 
tered by. 

Lord Alresford flung aside his book. 

“ Dear Lady Elvaston, we must have patience. Let us hope 
her own good sense and rectitude of principle, will at last explain 
that which now appears so inconsistent and reprehensible,” said 
he, taking her hand. 

His words and manner were gentle, and kind. 

Lady Elvaston sighed. 


CHAPTER IX. 

And a pleasant ride they had through green lane3 and over 
smooth verdant meadows, all reeking with the growing moisture of 
a soft summer rain ; for the road to the ruins of Fernley Abbey 
lay across flowery fields and by-paths, and sometimes between tall, 
thick hedges, where the way was so very narrow as scarcely to suf- 
fer two horsemen to ride abreast. There is something wondrously 
exhilarating in this exercise of riding. To a light, happy spirit it 


# 


PIQUE. 93 

affords rich revel indeed to hound freely through the elastic air, 
inhaling the pure, clear element on a sunshiny day, when the birds 
sing, and the blue sky stretches over a smiling, joyous landscape ; 
but there is also to the heart depressed by worldly anxiety and 
care, an excitement in the quick transit, which elates — something 
which circulates the blood, and revives the languid energies ; 
something in the murmurs of the fresh, bracing breeze that whis- 
pers of hope, and of a time when He who created so fair and mys- 
terious a world for the enjoyment of His fallen creatures, shall at 
length render all within man as harmonious, shall bind up the 
wounds of the broken in spirit, and make the waste places of the 
heart glad with abundant consolation. 

And so it was with Mildred Effingham ; though, we fear, most of 
her friends would exclaim, that, at any rate, she did not feel 
troubled at, but rather gloried in her delinquencies. But if such 
was their thought, they decidedly wronged her ; for no generous- 
hearted, high-principled girl, could act directly counter to the ad- 
vice and known wishes of her dearest friends, however right she 
might conceive herself to be, without being conscious of a very 
profound and uncomfortable feeling of sadness, lurking in the hid- 
den recesses of her spirit. And Mildred did feel very miserable 
as she mounted her horse ; and tears glittered in her beautiful 
eyes, which she had great difficulty in repressing ; but as the buoy- 
ant air fanned her cheek, and fluttered amid the folds of her veil, 
the sensation abated. 

On they sped, now on the soft yielding turf, then on the crisp 
gravel, but neither Miss Effingham nor her father seem inclined 
to enter into the animated dialogue going forwards between Sir 
Gerard Baynton and Archibald Campbell. Mildred felt a spell 
hang heavily on her usual lively spirits — perhaps it might be the 
remembrance of the kind mother at home, grieving over her wilful 
perversity. The hedges spread, and displayed all the wild luxu- 
riancy of a brilliant June morning. Here and there huge bushes 
of white and pink dog-roses shot forth vigorous branches, twining 
insidiously around the stunted stems of the thorn, and drooping 
showers of pink blossoms and verdant foliage on the mossy bank 
beneath. The sun, ere they arrived in sight of the ruins, had 
well nigh dried up every particle of water, and everything looked 
so fresh and glowing, that even Lord Elvaston was brought to con- 
fess, that weather more propitious for the thorough enjoyment of a 
country ride could not be desired ; though he sturdily refused to 
extend his concession to t^ie unlucky picnic, or to picnics in gen- 
eral ; which he obstinately averred were foolish things in this cli- 
mate. at all times and in all seasons ; and perhaps he was right. 


PIQUE. 


U4 


“Well, Milly, here we are ; but I do not at present perceive any 
of her ladyship’s fantastical preparations,” said Lord Elvaston, an 
they wound along the narrow bridle path down to the ruins. 

“ Her ladyship knows better than to choose so exposed a site a* 
any you can now see. The. luncheon, I suppose, will be spread in 
the hollow behind the Abbey, sheltered by the clump of elm-trees; 
or in what will please you better, papa, as you are so very reman- 
tically inclined this morning, in Queen Mary’s chamber,” replied 
Mildred, laughingly. 

“ Queen Mary’s fiddlesticks !” growled Lord Elvaston, in tones 
half grumpy, half amused. 

“ And there stands the fair Clara, waving her handkerchief to 
us,” exclaimed Sir Gerard, spurring his horse to Mildred’s side, 
and directing her attention to Miss Tennyson ; who stood with sev- 
eral ladies high above, gazing down from a ruined window, sur- 
rounded by a large party of gentlemen. “ See, Miss Effingham, 
yonder also sits Lady Tennyson, on a camp stool, with a carriage- 
mat under her feet, looking as chill and miserable as if she were 
doing penance ! I see she is talking to Colonel Sutherland.” 

“ Mad. mad! she positively must be crazy. An old woman to 
be betrayed into such absurdity ! ” said Lord Elvaston, bursting 
into a fit of laughter, as Lady Tennyson, with Colonel Suther- 
land’s assistance, unfurled and hoisted a pale, rose-colored par- 
asol. 

At this moment a couple of grooms came forward to lead away 
the horses, and after a slight demur Lord Elvaston reluctantly 
dismounted, and giving his arm to his daughter, proceeded to the 
spot where Lady Tennyson sat. She arose as they approached, 
but carefully avoided trespassing beyond the borders of the mat. 

“ How do you do, Lord Elvaston? I am sure I need not put 
that question to you, Miss Effingham, for I never remember seeing 
you look better. Sir Gerard Baynton, I am delighted to see you 
— you will find my son yonder,” exclaimed Lady Tennyson, point- 
ing with the delicate ivory handle of her parasol. “ He and Frank 
Norwood are engaged deciding a bet whether the ditches at the 
last Boxton steeplechase were as wide as the Abbey moat. Good- 
morning, Mr. Campbell ; it is really very kind of you all to come 
this damp morning.” 

* 1 Damp enough ; and I fear you find the wind rather keen, also, 
Lady Tennyson, for you look very pinched and chill,” said Lord 
Elvaston, dryly, bowing coldly to Colonel Sutherland. 

“Do I ? Now, really, if i could ju^t trouble you, Mr. Archi- 
bald Campbell, to step to the carriage, and fetch my large sabla 


PIQUE. 


95 


pelisse. Daughters in these days, Lord Ilvaston, are not suffi- 
ciently thoughtful for their parents’ comfort ; and there is Clara 
yonder, who never dreams it possible I can be worse for all this 
humid vapor. Miss Effingham ! ” — but Mildred, a few steps from 
her irritable ladyship, was talking to the Colonel, and did not at 
first hjar. “ Colonel Sutherland,” continued Lady Tennyson, pee- 
vishly, “ in olden days, you positively would have been indicted 
for sorcery, as you always contrive to attract and monopolize a 
young lady’s undivided attention. I was going to inquire, Miss 
Effingham, after the health of the Earl of Alresford.” 

“ Lord Alresford is perfectly well, I believe, Lady Tennyson,” 
replied Mildred, with heightened color. 

“ His lordship’s time must be very precious now. I know, be- 
fore my darling Jemima’s marriage, Mr. Macpherson was wholly 
occupied with his correspondence, and in penning lengthy effusions 
to his man of business. All may be couleur de rose during the 
courtship, to the young bride elect, you know, my dear Lord Elvaston, 
as she is supposed to be ignorant of these various little negotia- 
tions ; but to us parents, all the ennui of settlements, pin-money, 
&c., mar, in no small degree, the pleasing excitement of a wed- 
ding,” said Lady Tennyson, complacently. 

Mildred colored, and Colonel Sutherland, and the gentlemen 
around could not repress a smile ; for, despite Lady Tennyson’s 
boasting, it was notorious that her darling Jemima’s husband, Mr. 
Macpherson, depended for bis yearly income on the favorable bal- 
ance in his betting-books. 

“ How does your sister like her horse, Campbell? ” asked Col. 
Sutherland, to change the conversation. 

“ Helen appears highly delighted, and manages beautifully ; she 
would have been here to-day but for a bad cold, which rendered it 
impossible for her to ride this morning.” 

“ For which she may thank that foolish fellow,” exclaimed Lord 
Elvaston, pointing to Sir Gerard, “ who insisted on rowing her on 
the lake until near midnight.” 

“ Indeed ! ” rejoined Lady Tennyson, quickly ; “ I did not know 
you were so enthusiastic, Sir Gerard. We have a splendid sheet 
of water at Settringham, which I hope, as you are fond of rowing, 
may be an inducement to you to give us the pleasure of your com- 
pany for a few days.” 

“You do me great honor, Lady Tennyson. But when my visit 
to the Priory is ended, it is very uncertain where destiny may 
transport me,” replied Sir Gerard. 

“ I trust then your stay at the Priory may be much prolonged, 


96 


PIQUE. 


for we cannot spare you, Sir Gerard, when all our beaus and belles 
are flying from the neighborhood. Do you know, Colonel Suther- 
land, I even heard the other day that the Dragoons were 

ordered from Stanmore to some outlandish place in the Highlands. 
I suppose it was but a report after all ? ” 

“ Our case, Lady Tennyson, is not quite so lamentable, though 
provoking enough,” rejoined Colonel Sutherland. “ We are under 
marching orders for Edinburgh; but you may fancy how keen 
must be our regret to quit a place where we have met with so much 
kindness and hospitality. I can honestly vouch some of the hap- 
piest hours of my life have been spent in M shire,” continued 

he, lowering his voice, until to Mildred’s ear was it alone audible. 

“ Although the regiment may be ordered away, I trust Colonel 
Sutherland has made no resolve to reject the invitations of his old 
friends, and that we shall still frequently welcome him in this 
neighborhood, ’’said Lady Tennyson, smiling blandly. “ Oh ! I am 
charmed this foolish wager is decided, for I see Sir Richard com- 
ing towards us,” continued her ladyship, half rising, as her son 
and his friend appeared. 

“ But then the fairest flower will no more be seen ! Is it not 
wise, Miss Effingham, to avoid places and reminiscences which can 
but recall too vividly a time of exquisite happiness, vanished for- 
ever?” tfmrmured Colonel Sutherland in Mildred’s ear. 

Can this be the language of a man plighted to another ? thought 
Mildred. 

“ It depends whether those reminiscences arc such as conscience 
approves,” replied she, nevertheless, promptly. 

“ Well, Dick, who has won? Indeed you must both have been 
deep in argument not to perceive Miss Effingham’s presence,” ex- 
claimed Lady Tennyson, as the young men approached. 

“ I most humbly apologize, Miss Effingham,” said Sir Richard, 
hastening forwards ; “ but, you see, those confounded elder bushes 
completely concealed this spot. How is Lady Elvaston, and your 
friend Miss Campbell ? ” 

“ Mamma is well ; but I cannot give so good an account of 
Helen, who is laid up with a bad cold.” 

“I am sorry to hear it. Frank, if your spine has recovered its 
flexibility since that terrible shock at the Boxton steeple-chase, 
and you can do honor to my introduction by an elegant bow, I will 
beg permission to present you to Miss Effingham. Miss Effingham, 
may I introduce my friend, Frank Norwood, of Chartleigh ? ” 

Mr. Frank Norwood inclined so profoundly, as to set at rest all 
doubt any one present might feel as to the perfect elasticity of hi? 
vertebrae. 


PIQUE. 


97 


“ But I am dying to knowhow you have decided the het, Dick,” 
interposed Lady Tennyson. 

“ Well, mother, as it seemed impossible to come to any decision 
we resolved to dispatch Bob Higgins to Settringham to fetch the 
horses ; so Spankaway and Black Bess may have at it presently. 
I am so glad you are here, Miss Effingham ; it will be a piece of 
rare sport. But the best of it is, mother, Frank swears his groom 
is lighter than Bob; who I proposed should be our jockey.” 

“Lam surprised at Mr. Norwood. I should say Bob was sev- 
eral stone the lighter,” replied Lady Tennyson, decisively, de- 
lighted her darling son had at last found something sufficiently 
novel to kindle his interest. 

“ Well, Lady Tennyson, while these young gentlemen discuss 
their jockeys and bets, I propose that you and I take a gentle stroll 
through the ruins ; unless, indeed, as I strongly recommend, you 
take up a position amongst the cushions of your carriage, as the 
most comfortable you can command here,” said Lord Elvaston. 

“ To tell you the truth, I think I have never fully recovered 
that sad jumble between Settringham and Stanmore in Dick’s 
phaeton ; so 1 think I will take your advice my dear lord, if you 
will be good enough to give me your arm. See! here comes 
Clara,” and Lady Tennyson arose languidly, and stepped from the 
mat as if she were about to place her toe on a red-hot ploughshare. 

“ My dear Mildred, I am so enchanted to see you ! I was quite 
sure you might be relied upon, though mamma prophesied you 
would not come,” cried Miss Tennyson, bounding forwards, fol- 
lowed by two or three ladies. “ After all, it was such a very 
slight shower, and one might be ever poking in the house if such 
accidents were suffered to break up one’s projects. Well, Sir Ge- 
rard, you have never been over to Settringham to see my pointers ; 
but I suppose men are alike, and all their promises resemble cob- 
webs, which the first breath of wind dissipates. Why! mamma.” 
continued Miss Tennyson, as her eye rested on her mother’s muf- 
fled figure, “ how can you wrap yourself up in that fur pelisse this 
broiling day ! You look exactly like the old nabob of Dornton — 
1 beg your pardon my dear Caroline — when he came home from 
Calcutta, crawling like a huge beetle under all his cloaks and 
wrappers.” 

“ Your mother, like a sensible person, is going to sit quietly in 
her carriage until you are wearied of your rambles in the wet 
woods. But I should like to know, Miss Clara, now you have 
taken the trouble of bringing us all together, what the deuse it 
is you intend us to do? ” said Lord Elvaston, quaintly. 


98 


PIQUE. 


“ Do My dear Lord Elvaston, you are always so droll. I 
hope — after you have enjoyed this beautiful fresh air, and climbed 
the hill yonder, which is really worth your while to do, to lov,k at 
the windings of the swollen river in the valley — you will ride 
back with us to Settringham ; as I really could not gainsay the 
fact, that it was too damp and wet a day to dream of a rustic 
entertainment among the ruins.” 

“I am infinitely obliged to you, my dear Clara, for being con- 
vinced of this fact ; but, unfortunately, it will be impossible for 
Mildred and myself to return home with you, as I have an engage- 
ment at three o’clock,” replied Lord Elvaston. 

“ Oh ! I am so grieved. But, Mildred,” continued she, drag- 
ging Miss Effingham a few paces from the group, “ why did you 
not bring Lord Alresford ? ” 

“ When I left home he proposed to be busily engaged during the 
whole morning with letter- writing,” replied Mildred, rather em- 
barrassed. 

“How provoking! You must excuse me, Mildred, but I pro- 
test I should be ready to quarrel with any man who preferred 
occupying himself with his correspondence, rather than obey my 
sovereign will and pleasure. Mamma, however, declares these philo- 
sophical lovers generally make attentive husbands ; and I am sure, 
I cannot help thinking there is truth in what she says, for never 
was there a more devoted lover than Mr. Macpherson, and now 
poor dear Jemi only catches a glimpse of him once or so in a cou- 
ple of days.” 

And here, in the pursuit of her silly scheme, she had subjected 
Lord Alresford to the impertinent comments of such a girl as Clara 
Tennyson ! Mildred felt her cheek tingle. 

“ I assure you it was my fault, and my own fault alone, Lord 
Alresford did not accompany me here this morning,” replied she, 
coldly. 

“ Oh, I am sure of it ; I do not doubt it! ” rejoined Miss Ten- 
nyson, quickly ; for there was that now in Miss Effingham’s tone 
— a species of distant coldness and slight hauteur — which inva- 
riably reminded her young friends, save the privileged Helen 
Campbell, when Lord Elvaston’s heiress conceived they were 
trenching on the sacred ground of conventional bienseanco in 
the freedom of their remarks. “But, my dear Mildred, if you 
have no objection, let us walk up the hill, and take a stroll round 
that beautiful meadow. We shall be back by the time mamma is 
comfortably packed in the carriage ; then we will have a biscuit 
and a glass of wine — which necessaries, I assure you, Mr. Frank 


PIQUE. 


99 


Norwood took famous good care to remind me of — and afterwards 
ride back to Settringham. I trust to you to persuade Lord Elvas- 
ton.” 

“ What is that you say about me, Miss Tennyson ? ” said Mr. 
Norwood, suddenly turning, and bending his good-natured eyes on 
her face. 

“ Only that Mr. Frank Norwood is monstrously proficient in the 
art of taking care of himself,” rejoined Clara, with a laugh. 

“ And a deused good quality, too ! There is nothing like a short 
campaign on the turf for making men’s wits keen as a razor, is 
there, Frank? ” said Sir Bichard, with a knowing wink. 

“ Hallo! Stop, Hick ! Never drag up old scores. He must be 
a wretched driveller, indeed, who does not pluck up his mettle, 
and see a little farther than most men, after a plunge into Newmar- 
ket ! — ahem, what shall I call it ? ” 

“Knavery! you mean, Mr. Norwood. Make a clean breast of 
it at once! ” exclaimed Miss Tennyson, in a loud voice. 

“ My dear Clara, you do shock me so terribly with your dread- 
ful strong expressions,” cried Lady Tennyson, affectedly raising 
her handkerchief to her nose. 

“ Bravo, Clara ! ” exclaimed Lord Elvaston. 

“ W T hy, there is a good deal of that, and I won’t attempt to 
deny it, though more ’s the pity,” resumed Mr. Norwood, nowise 
abashed; ‘ but 1 was going to observe, Miss Tennyson, a man 
may throw all care for himself behind his back when he enters 
Settringham. By Jove ! he lacks .not a single element to make 
life delightful ! ” continued he, energetically. 

Miss Tennyson tossed her head, with a littje abrupt laugh ; but 
her eye still rested complacently on the gooa-humored visage of 
Mr. Frank Norwood, — for, be it known to the reader, she was 
not blind to the advantage, in a worldly point of view, of attract- 
ing the admiration of a man, who, unlike her brother-in-law Mac- 
pherson, really possessed the means for indulging in the luxury of 
horses and grooms, at discretion ; and who made the neighboring 
county ring with the rollicking conviviality of Chartleigh House. 

“Mr. Frank Norwood is evidently preparing a fresh burst of 
pathetics ; ’t is a pity his eloquence should meet any other ear than 
Miss Tennyson’s,” said Colonel Sutherland, in a supercilious whis- 
per, to Mildred ; “ let us stroll about I trust Miss Effingham will 
do me the honor of accepting my arm — perhaps for the last time.” 

Mildred silently placed her hand on the Colonel’s arm. 

“ Come, what is the use of our dawdling here ? ” exclaimed Miss 
Tennyson. “We are going to walk to the spinney, yonder ; so. 


L. of C. 


100 


PIQUE. 


gentlemen, I shall call out, like King Stephen, before the battle 
of Crecy, ‘ let him who loves me, follow ! ’ Oh, I see, Colonel, 
you have already secured a companion. Sir Gerard, I choose you 
for my cavalier ; so let us set off without delay, I entreat. Dick, 
mind and superintend the spreading, or rather unpacking, of our 
refreshment, by the time we return.” 

“ Willingly ; if 1 have leisure before Black Bess’s arrival,” re 
plied Sir Bichard, doggedly. 

“ What a barbarian you are to be sure, Dick ! Well, mamma, 
you will desire Hurst to look after it, — or, perhaps Lord Elvas* 
ton will be so very kind as to do so,” replied Miss Tennyson, 
walking away with Sir Gerard. 

“ I say, Miss Tennyson, what am I to do while you are gone ? ” 
asked Mr. Frank Norwood, looking rather blank. 

“ Oh, while Dick is occupied with Black Bess, you stay, by all 
means, and jockey Spankaway, — or, perhaps, you may be useful 
as a cavalier for Carry ; — no, you will not be wanted ; she is 
walking yonder, with Captain Vansittart.” 9 

“ Bemember, Mildred, in three-quarters of an hour we must be 
on our road homewards,” exclaimed Lord Elvaston, seriously un- 
easy at seeing his darling Mildred walk away, arm-in-arm, with the 
redoubtable Colonel. 

“ Your lordship may depend upon our punctuality ; so go on — 
go on, good people ! ” cried Miss Tennyson, starting off* at a brisk 
pace. 

“ What a thousand pities it is that Miss Tennyson, with all her 
many good qualities, should have contracted so unfemine a deport- 
ment,” said Colonel Sutherland, as they slowly ascended the hill. 
“ When you leave the county, Miss Effingham, the world, for a 
season, will drown its regrets by turning its attention to the affairs 
at Settringham ; for I foresee a marriage will soon connect the 
Tennysons with the owner of Chartleigh.” 

“ Indeed ! I fancied the acquaintance with Mr. Norwood was 
a very recent affair.” 

“ Very recent. Three months ago, when Sir Bichard and Mr. 
Frank Norwood met at our mess, they were strangers; but you 
know, Miss Effingham, a web is easily woven to entangle the heart ; 
would that, when once captured, its fetters were stronger — more 
indissoluble ! ” 

“ When such is not the case, generally speaking, some radical 
and fatal error intervenes, rest assured. Some thought which 
ought not to have been indulged ” 

“ Affection is not always to be moulded at will, Miss Effingham 


PIQUE. 


101 


A "bright vision of beauty and goodness floats upon us, and ’t is 
vain to resist. Against every sentiment of prudence, every sug. 
gestion of reason, the heart yields to the fascination, and then 
there follows bitter remorse ; for in errors of the heart there is no 
room for repentance ; even the gentlest natures become stern and 
implacable. Do you know of any possible extenuating circum- 
stances, Miss Effingham ? ” 

Mildred pondered. Her cheek was flushed, but her tone and 
manner were firm and collected. 

“ It depends whether we, have voluntarily placed ourselves in 
the position from which this bright vision, to use your own words, 
moves us to recoil ; whether we have freely sought our fate, or 
whether it has been imposed upon us ; whether, in short, in the 
pursuit of our own selfish passions we have recklessly trifled with 
the peace, or taken advantage of the peculiar situation of another 
— knowing at the same time that our own position, and every tie 
of honor, were our circumstances fully exposed, would forbid such 
a project, even had no obstacle existed on theirs,” replied Mildred, 
firmly, raising her eyes to his face. 

“But, do you make no allowance for the severity of the tempta- 
tion ? ” said Colonel Sutherland, coloring. 

“Bemember the old Spanish adage says, with as much truth as 
wisdom, ‘ gustos y disgnstos son no mas que imagination!’” re- 
joined Mildred, with a smile. 

“ But you did not find it so in your experience, Miss Effingham,” 
replied he, reproachfully. “ Lord Alresford ” 

“ Stay !” interrupted Mildred, impetuously, coloring deeply — 
for she longed to atone, however imperfectly, for the slighting man- 
ner and language into which she had been betrayed at the unfortu- 
nate dinner party — “ on the contrary, my case strongly illustrates 
the proverb. It was imagination alone which led me into the error 
of speaking hastily and unguardedly of a man vho now, short as 
the time appears, possesses my esteem and highest admiration.” 

“ I was sure it must be so in time ; yet, oh, Miss Effingham, 
you have only declared your esteem and admiration are Lord Al- 
resford’s; but your love ” 

Mildred trembled ; her breath came quick and fast. 

“Is still, thank God, in my own gift, and at tht command of my 
reason ! ” answered she, after a brief pause, in unfaltering tones. 
“ But have you, indeed, Colonel Sutherland, the right to ask me 
this question ? Can it be true that, knowing my e?rly betrothal 
to Lord Alresford, you have insidiously tried *o win bis pbvre in 
my regard ; when, as I have been told, by your own spontaneeusaci 


102 


PIQUE. 


you pledged your faith, scarcely eighteen months ago, to Miss 
Conway? ” 

“ That I love you deeply, fervently, to the destruction of my 
future peace, and that I now pay the penalty of my folly by know- 
ing you the bride of another, let this suffice you, Miss Effingham. 
Press me no more ; at least leave me the feeble consolation of your 
esteem,” replied Colonel Sutherland, in a voice of deep agitation. 

Mildred, however, the usually gentle and tender-hearted Mil- 
dred resolutely closed her ears to this appeal ; a sudden chill seemed 
to have blighted and deadened her sympathy. 

“As you value my good opinion/ Colonel Sutherland, answer 
me truly and sincerely. Let not a shadow of doubt linger on our 
mutual positions. Are you engaged to marry Miss Conway?” 
demanded she, again, in cold, constrained tones. 

“ Since you positively dfcmand an answer, Miss Effingham, and 
ask it, moreover, in the name of what I prize most in the world — 
your esteem — I will openly confess such an, engagement does sub- 
sist,” rejoined Colonel Sutherland, in low, hesitating tones “ Since 
I have known you, this fatal chain weighs me to the ground. I 
have been upon the point of avowing everything a thousand times ; 
but I had not courage to endure banishment from your presence. 
I implore you, speak, Miss Effingham ; say I have not quite for- 
feited everything save your contempt ! ” continued he, earnestly. 

A burning, choking sensation arose in Mildred’s throat ; the 
blood rushed to her face, her neck, her hands, and then receded 
again, leaving all pale as alabaster, even to her lips. She felt 
crushed under the humiliation. It was, then, true that she had 
been made the sport, the passetemps of a heartless, selfish deceiver. 
Eor this man, such as he was, she had inflicted trouble and anx- 
iety, pang' after pang, on all she loved, — on her gentle mother, 
her indulgent father, — on Helen, and had well nigh, if not 
totally, alienated her betrothed husband. Never had she been so 
sensible of the exceeding bitterness of deviating, however slightly, 
from the strict path of rectitude. She felt self-convicted ; and now 
mourned, as deeply even as Helen could desire, that absence of 
candor and confidence towards him, whose powerful mind could 
have safely steered her amid the perils of her own unsettled, 
wandering fancy. 

“ Miss Effingham, is my offence beyond forgiveness ? Will you 
not bestow a word, not even a glance, on one who has so long 
lived on your smile ? ” said Colonel Sutherland, taking her hand. 

She hastily snatched it from him. 

“ Is it possible any human being muld act so basely ? Ob, 


PIQUE. 


103 


Colonel Sutherland, the confession I have this day heard from 
your lips is, indeed, my sorest punishment for having swerved; 
even in the mere fact of admitting your attentions, from the faith 
it was my duty to preserve towards him to whom my parents had 
given me. Why have you made me the degraded object of receiv- 
ing attentions stolen from another ? Why was I unwittingly made 
the destroyer of Miss Conway’s peace ? How dare you have acted 
thus towards me ? ” exclaimed she, passionately. 

“You are harsh. Miss Effingham. May I not, on the other 
hand, inquire of you, had I been free, whether you could finally 
have realized the hopes your conduct led me to cherish? Were 
your manners and deportment, when first we met, such as to 
induce me to credit the prevailing report of your engagement? 
Dazzled by the brightness of your beauty, I was led on step by 
step, — deluded by the thought, that if the rumor were true, my 
attention could not endanger your happiness, over-confident, like- 
wise, in the strength of my own attachment to Lord Normanton’s 
sister, — until at length the chain became too strong, and I ceased 
to wrestle. You never alluded to your engagement, and I lulled 
myself in the vain hope that after all it might not be so.” 

“ Then the affianced husband of Miss Conway, you thought it 
no crime to ensnare and destroy the peace of another for your own 
selfish gratification I thank you, Colonel Sutherland, for what 
you had in reserve for me,” exdaiined Mildred, turning indig- 
nantly round. 

“No, by Heaven ! you wrong me. Miss Effingham. To obtain 
your favor, 1 would only too joyfully resign everything — every- 
body ! ” replied Colonel Sutherland, in a low, agitated whisper. 

Could Colonel Sutherland have seen the contempt that at this 
moment flashed from eyes which in days of yore he had been wont 
to declare soft and tender as houris’, it would have haunted him 
for many a long day afterwards. 

“ Poor Miss Conway !” exclaimed she, almost sarcastically. 

“Nay; Miss Conway’s case is less worthy of commiseration 
than mine, since you deign to pity her. But will you deprive me 
of every consolation ? Say, I implore you, Mildred, had it been 
with me as it ought before I presumed to raise my eyes to you, 
would you now have bidden me hope ? ” 

How did Mildred’s heart thrill at these words! Though indig- 
nation now seemed to master every other feeling, the clear earnest 
tones of that voice had once fallen pleasantly on her ear. She had 
dreamed, too, of the love which now stood revealed, as the utmost 
felic ity which could befall her ; yet, in the brief space of half an 


104 


PIQUE. 


hour, how changed her feelings ! The dazzling visiot of imagina- 
tion hud fled ; but its shadow still lingered, and fastened amid its 
deepening gloom, a sickly sense of lonely desolation. How could 
she reply to his question ? She felt it her bounden duty towards 
Miss Conway, no less than what the claims of Lord Alresford 
imperatively demanded, not to suffer the presumptuous Colonel to 
be conscious of the powerful sway he once wielded over her. She 
therefore promptly replied, — 

No, Colonel Sutherland, I could not bid you hope. Ere I 
pronounced words of such import, your character must have been 
better known to me. Perfect confidence and esteem, as I said 
before, must ever be the foundation of true affection ; and, believe 
me, wherever this is wanted, even in the minutest degree, all will 
end in disappointment and mutual distrust. I could worship 
integrity, pure, loyal, and unshaken ! ” 

Colonel Sutherland bit his lip. 

“ The end of my short delirium of love is, then, that you 
thoroughly despise me. ’T is hard to bear, Miss Effingham ! ” 
said he at length, with an effort. 

“ Despise you ! Oh ! do not think so,” replied Mildred, quickly 
and earnestly, for she knew the galling torment of supposing such 
a feeling in the breast of one whose regard we value. She paused 
for a few moments. The Colonel continued walking silently by 
her side. “ Would you really wish to regain my good opinion, — 
my gratitude, Col. Sutherland ? ” at length asked she, very gently. 

“ Nay ; do not ask me this, Miss Effingham. I would obey you 
even at the risk of my life. I would forfeit everything to stand as 
I did in your favor one little month ago,” replied he, with emotion. 

“ Then relieve my conscience of the anxiety I must unknowingly 
have inflicted on Miss Conway, by going directly — nay, this very 
evening — to Moreton. I beseech you, Colonel Sutherland, refuse 
me not the consolation of thinking I have repaired, as far as possi- 
ble, the injury committed. Plead urgently, and if she indeed loves 
you, she will forgive. Will you grant my prayer?” said Mildred, 
tears rising in her eyes. 

“If she loves me she will forgive, say you! Ah! I once dreamed 
of urging this plea to another,” replied Colonel Sutherland, hastily. 

Mildred turned away. 

“ Miss Effingham, cost me what it will, I will try to obey you.” 

A sad smile curled Mildred’s lip. She had erred, and was 
beginning to feel that repentance was harder, — bitterer, — than 
the resolute avoidance, in the first instance, of temptation. Oh ! 
that more would heed this, and be warned betimes 1 


PIQUE. 


105 


“ Then we are reconciled. Colonel Sutherland, l pra^ you, let 
us never, never revert to what has now passed between us. As for 
the share I have had in fostering your error, — for I feel while 
censuring you I am' far frbm guiltless myself, — I earnestly entreat 
your pardon. May I think you bear me no resentment for what 
has been so culpable in my deportment ? ” said she, in subdued 
tones, raising her soft eyes to his. 

“ liesentment ! Do you ask whether I regret you smiled upon 
me? and that for a brief space I fancied myself beloved? No, 
Miss Effingham, in the hard sentence you have pronounced I 
acknowledge your rectitude ; and that Mildred Effingham, to have 
acted consistently with herself, could not have decided otherwise. 
My folly has brought its just reward, in an attachment which will 
but expire with myself.” 

Mildred could not reply ; — she felt a heart-breaking which 
bereft her of the power of speech, and silently they wended their 
way to the foot of the hill, where already some of the party had 
arrived. 

“ Bless me, Mildred, how dreadfully white and fatigued you 
look ! I trust you have not realized Lord Elvaston’s forebodings, 
and actually got wet in the feet ! ” exclaimed Clara Tennyson, 
darting forwards as Miss Effingham approached ; “ you should 
have walked more in the centre of the meadow, instead of groping 
along under the shade of the plantations, where we observed, 
Colonel Sutherland, you in a most unsoldier-like fashion led Miss 
Effingham. You will never do for a guide, I can tell you, if you 
are thus careless of the health and convenience of your companion. 
But come along, my dear Mildred, and drink a glass of sherry, 
which I hope Will kindle again your roses. You look so pale and 
fagged, Mildred ! I am grieved you were unfortunately compelled 
to go draggling alone with that stupid Colonel,” said Clara, as she 
seized her friend’s arm and walked away towards the carriage in 
which Lady Tennyson sat enthroned. “After all, he is but what 
my precious brother would call a slow-coach. Do hark at those 
shouting men ! One would imagine them a pack of lunatics 
bawling in Bedlam ! ” continued Clara, as the kicking and plung- 
ing of horses echoed round, and the air rang with confused shouts. 

To please Lady Tennyson the carriage had been removed, so as 
to furnish her with a full view of the sport of her son and his 
delectable friend, and all the gentlemen were gathered around it. 
Lord Elvaston, however, the moment his eye fell on Mild red’s 
wan countenance, quietly ordered the horses round, whilst she 
took the refreshment thrust into her hands by the determined 
Clara. 


106 


PIQUE. 


“ Come, Milly, I am sorry to hurry you away, but you remem- 
ber I have an appointment this afternoon at Harlington. Bayn- 
ton, pray do not imagine yourself hound to accompany us home. 
You will, I dare say, find your way back there some time before 
half-past seven ” said Lord Elvaston, approaching very resolutely 
to pay his farewell compliments to Lady Tennyson. 

“ Thank you, 1 am quite ready now,” quickly replied Sir 
Gerard. “ Miss Tennyson, I am sorry I cannot stay to see the 
finale of Spankaway and Black Bess’s feats, but I promised to 
ride with Lord Elvaston to Harlington. You must know now I 
intend to settle permanently at the Chauntry, I am making turnips 
and short horns my serious study ; it would, therefore, be a pity 
to lose such an opportunity, — so farewell, with many thanks for 
a most delightful walk.” 

“ I suppose we shall soon see you again ?” said Miss Tennyson, 
shaking hands. 

“Very soon, I trust.” 

Colonel Sutherland meanwhile approached, and aided Mildred 
to mount her horse. His hand lingered on hers as he placed the 
reins in her grasp. 

“ May you be happy, Miss Effingham, — happier than I! I 
will obey your commands, and set out for Moreton,” whispered he, 
hurriedly. 

Mildred hastily drew down her veil, — and they parted. 

Thus vanished Mildred Effingham’s fairy dream, and stern 
reality stood before her, armed with all its terrors, — for stern 
was it to her, though, doubtless, her lot was incomparably more 
enviable without, than with the fascinating Colonel ; but Mildred 
was the child of rank, wealth, and luxury, and what she sighed 
for was affection. Her spirit longed for that thing, rare, precious, 
and beyond price — a faithful devoted heart — on which to stay 
her own ; and can it excite wonder if a chill sensation crept over 
her mind when imagination pictured the fastidious, exigeant indi- 
vidual t<5 whom her faith was pledged, and who she had that very 
morning so rashly braved ? When Mildred arrived at her home 
she scarcely knew how the time had passed since she quitted the 
enclosure of the Abbey of Fcruley, and waved her parting adieus 
to the noisy assemblage there. Her cheek was hot and flushed, 
and there was a sharp, restless glitter in her eye which did not 
escape Lord Elvaston’s notice, — as he lifted her from the horse, 
and felt the burning heat of the little hand in his grasp. 

“Why, Milly, my child, what’s the matter? your hand feels 
quite feverish ! I hope you have not caught cold during this 


PIQUE. 


10 ? 


foolish expedition. Come with me, and I will speak to your 
mother;” but Mildred shook her head, and bounded away up 
stairs. 

“ I dare say Miss Effingham is fatigued with her ride,” sug- 
gested Sir Gerard. 

“ Fatigued ! nothing of the kind, my dear Baynton. She has 
ridden with me for hours ere to-day, and never complained of 
fatigue. That absurd Clara Tennyson, with all her confounded 
folly, ought positively to be voted a nuisance in the county ! She 
and her mother make a precious pair ! ” grumbled Lord Elvaston, 
as he slowly remounted his horse, and, accompanied by Sir Gerard, 
took the road to Harlington. 


CHAPTER X. 

Mildred proceeded straight to her dressing-room, and hastily 
closing the door, threw aside her hat and gloves, and sank into a 
chair — to think. She sat with one hand supporting her throbbing 
temples; and, though one design alone stood boldly prominent 
amid the confusion of ideas which thronged her miud, yet the 
prop on which she had rested for so many days past had been 
hurled from her with a shock so sudden, that she felt it impossible 
at first to realize the fact. Vainly she clasped her fingers across 
her aching brow, to shut out the bewildering sensation of utter 
loneliness ; to stay the sounds of the laughter, the obstreperous 
merriment which still rang in her ears. The more she strove to 
give coherence to her ideas, the heavier did the sense of desolation 
press home. She felt degraded in proportion as her reliance on 
Colonel Sutherland’s truth and honor had been steadfast. She 
thought then of Lord Alresford, and what his stern contempt for 
her thoughtless levity must be ; and bitterly, intensely did she 
now deplore the folly which reared this barrier between them ! 
Mildred had, however, formed her purpose; but, though strong 
in her resolve, her heart trembled at its decision, — long she 
struggled for firmness, but at length her spirit yielded, and, over- 
powered with conflicting emotions, her head sank on the pillow, 
and she wept bitter tears of anguish. 

Presently the j endulc on the chimney-piece struck. It wanted 
a quarter to four. She hastily arose, and dashing the tears from 


108 


PIQUE. 


her eyes, rang the bell. In a few minutes Aglae obeyed the 
summons. She started, and gazed on Mildred for a second with 
surprise and alarm ; but instantly divining some uncommon event 
had occurred to raise this tumult of agitation, she forbore to utter 
a syllabic, but quietly advancing to the toilette, took up a bottle 
and sprinkled some drops of eau de cologne on the pale brow of 
her young mistress. She then hastily unfastened the tight habit, 
and held a glass of water to poor Mildred’s trembling lips. In a 
short time her sobs ceased, and she stood up. 

“ Thank you, my kind, attentive Aglae. I feel much better 
now. I believe I am dreadfully nervous, and overfatiguod with 
my long ride. Tray make haste, for I have a great deal to do 
before the dressing-bell rings, and it is now four.” 

“ But, surely, mademoiselle will take rest before dinner. Oh, 
pray do.” 

“No, no. Make haste ! ” and Mildred hastily seated herself at 
her toilette. 

Aglae refrained from further entreaty or comment, and immedi- 
ately applied herself to smooth her mistress’s disordered hair. With 
restless eagerness Mildred watched the operation ; never before had 
she felt so impatient and excitable, and her fingers trembled as she 
hastily took one thing, and then another from the table, as the 
idea occurred that it might be wanted, or that Aglae’s eye was in 
search of it. 

“ Where is NIiss Campbell ? ” asked she, hastily, when at length 
she stood arrayed as she had been at the breakfast-table that morn- 
ing. 

“ Mademoiselle is in de boudoir on de sofa. I think she appear 
much bettare.” 

“ And mamma? ” 

“ Is sitting with Miss Campbell — and milord ” 

Mildred turned away, and took up her watch and chain from the 
toilette. Her color wavered. 

“ Pardon, mademoiselle. Milord, as I was Paying, cross de 
hall, and enter de library as I come up into your room, about tree 
quarter of an hour ago, just before you return.” 

‘ ‘ W ell. Aglae, that will do now. Pray, tell mamma and dear Helen 
that I will come to them very soon, but just now I wish not to be 
disturbed, as I have- something very important to do; and Aglae, 
do not mention to mamma, lest it should alarm her, that I did not 
feel quite well after my ride.” 

“ Very well, mademoiselle,” murmured Aglae, as she closed the 
door, and went to perform her errand in her best and most engag- 


PIQUE. 


109 


;ng manner ; for Aglae was a model of discretion, and, unlike her 
countrywomen generally, possessed complete mastery over her 
tongue ; and she, moreover, would sooner forfeit her right hand 
than betray any fact she suspected her beloved young mistress 
would rather have concealed. 

Aglae’s steps had no sooner ceased to echo along the corridor, 
than Mildred turned, and hastily seizing the half-filled goblet of 
water, which still stood on the table, swallowed its contents at a 
draught, and without once venturing to put the smallest question 
to her heart, opened the door, and descended with the speed of 
lightning. With hurried step she sped along the vestibule, laid her 
hand resolutely on the lock of the library do&r, and entered. 

It was a lofty room, lighted by three large Gothic windows. 
Near one of these Lord Alresford was seated writing. A couch 
was drawn into the deep recess of the window, upon which lay a 
quantity of books, one open, with its face turned on the leather 
cushion, as if some one had just risen from its perusal. Lord Al- 
resford immediately laid down his pen, and looked up in surprise 
as Mildred, with firm, unshaken step, advanced and stood before 
him. Her cheek was very white, and her lips firmly compressed. 

“ I have sought your lordship to announce that I am ready and 
willing to confirm our engagement,” said she, in a low immovable 
voice, bending her eyes to the ground. 

Lord Alresford did not speak for some seconds. Mildred felt 
his gaze was riveted upon her, and the color rushed to her face 
and neck. 

“Beally, Miss Effingham, your conduct forms a most extraordi- 
nary and unexpected denouement to the scene of this morning. 
Excuse me, if 1 distinctly entreat you to understand, that 1 will 
not submit to be trifled with ; and as, from your manner, you 
could scarcely have meditated your present step then, believe me, 
it will redound to our mutual advantage if you take longer time 
for consideration,” replied he, at length, severely. 

Mildred's heart palpitated. Had she then sunk so low in his 
esteem, that even the strength and reality of her good resolution 
was dou bted ? 

“ I have reflected ; my decision would be as it is now,” rejoined 
she, proudly. 

“ If so, you of course consider yourself amenable to any expla- 
nations I think proper to demand ; and thus empowered, Miss Ef- 
fingham, I ask you, in the first place, whether your intimacy with 
Colonel Sutherland has ceased totally and forever? ” 

Mildred covered her face with her hands, while every nerve 
10 


110 


PIQUE. 


shook with agitation. Presently she raised her head, and herpioud 
lip quivered, painfully, as she encountered the searching gaze bent 
upon her. 

“ I have erred, and deserve this humiliation,” murmured she. 
“ Colonel Sutherland is engaged to marry Miss Conway ! ” ex- 
claimed she, at length, with a violent effort, instantly burying 
again her face in her hands. 

“ Miss Effingham ! Mildred ! Nay, I beseech you, be calm ! ” 
exclaimed Lord Alresford, hastily, shocked at her excessive emo- 
tion, and penetrated with admiration at her noble, frank avowal of 
a fact so very mortifying to her vanity and self-love. “ I fain 
trust it is now superfluous for me to point out the magnitude of 
your error, or the injury you have been the means of inflicting on 
Miss Conway ; to say nothing, Mildred, of the reproaches I might 
so justly pour upon you for your faithless disregard of vows sol- 
emnly pledged to me ! Would that you had sooner yielded to the 
conviction, that I was not the only person injured by — forgive me 
if I so designate it — your heartless coquetry! ” added the Earl, 
quickly, in the same tones. 

“ Then you were aware of Colonel Sutherland’s engagement?” 
said Mildred, faintly. 

“Yes ; I learned it from Lady Normanton herself ” 

“ And yet you never warned me of the precipice on which I 
stood,” cried she, passionately. 

“ Pardon me, Miss Effingham, it was not for me, a party so 
closely interested, to inform you of a fact, which, if you pos- 
sessed a particle of womanly feeling and generosity, must have suf- 
ficed to drive from you, in scorn and abhorrence, a man capable of 
such deception ; nevertheless, I knew you had been told. I knew 
this very circumstance had been pleaded to you by Lady Elvaston, 
and yet you refused to believe ! Did you regard my expostula- 
tions? Did you before heed my entreaties when I urged you, on 
the faith you owed me, to avoid Colonel Sutherland’s society. Con- 
ceive my feelings of indignation when, on my return hither, I 
found the county ringing with scandal on the subject of your indis- 
creet familiarity with such a man as Colonel Sutherland ! No, 
Mildred ; even your mother could not offer a word of palliation for 
her daughter.” 

“ It was an infatuation. Lord Alresford, I will take all your 
reproaches meekly, for I feel I deserve them. Yet could you know 
how I have suffered, perhaps even those might be spared me ! ” 
exclaimed Mildred, tears pouring down her cheeks. 

“ Mildred, do you indeed sincerely desire our reconciliation?” 
said the Earl, bending upon her a searching look. 


PIQUE. 


Ill 


“ Should 1 be here, my lord ? Think you, I would else listen 
to your reproaches? ” exclaimed she, her eyes flashing through her 
tears. “ But I have small hope of obtaining your forgiveness? ” 

“ If you would truly obtain it, Mildred, tell me all your heart. 
If our engagement is to be ratified anew, there must be no con- 
cealments between u3 ; for it would, indeed, be mockery to say to 
you now, I forgive that, which in my wife I would not tolerate a 
moment. I must know more of this affair with Colonel Suther- 
land. Are you willing to grant me this explanation ? ” asked 
the Earl, gravely. 

Mildred paused. She raised her eyes timidly to Lord Alres- 
ford’s face ; he was standing by her side, and she saw that in its 
expression which showei her he would admit no longer of trifling. 
There was an indescribable something which cast its spell over her 
spirit whenever she conversed with him. Perhaps the charm lay 
in the simple truthful decision of his tone and manner. She felt 
the warm blood tingle in her cheek ; yet she hastened to reply ; 
for, with all her faults, hers was not one of those disingenuous 
natures who dare offend, and yet, when fully convicted of injustice, 
shrink from healing the wound occasioned by its rash impetuosity. 

“ 1 will give you this explanation, or any other you choose to 
ask,” replied she, in a low, unsteady voice. 

“ Then answer me, Mildred. How far, on my arrival here, 
were you compromised with Colonel Sutherland? Were his ad- 
vances limited only to paying you marked attention ? or had he 
presumed to breathe the word Love iuto the ear of my betrothed 
wife ? — a h, Mildred, that I should add also, perhaps with her 
assent! ” 

Mildred’s brow crimsoned. Never, perhaps, before had she 
experienced a moment so exquisitely painful. 

“ Colonel Sutherland never spoke to me on that — that subject 
” and she paused. 

“ Never? ” 

“ Until this morning ; and then he owned the fact of his engage- 
ment. But the error has been all on my side. Blame me alone, 
my lord. I acknowledge myself guilty! Yes,” continued she, 
passionately, “ I will not seek to palliate it. My conduct when 
first we met, was not such, I avow to my shame, as to induce him 
to believe I was no longer free ! What more do you require to 
know?.” 

“ Much — everything, Mildred! Is it to this fact, — this un- 
expected revelation of Colonel Sutherland’s dishonorable trifling 
that I am indebted for your sudden wish for reconciliation?” 
asked the Earl, coldly. 


112 


PIQUE. 


“ Do you deem me so dishonorable ? No, Lord Alresford., even 
when writhing under the severe though merited rebuke contained 
in your letter after that unfortunate evening, I still, as Miss Camp- 
bell will bear me witness, firmly resolved to fulfil my engagement 
to you ! ” rejoined Mildred, vehemently. 

“ You astonish me ! Indeed I should have found it difficult to 
divine such an intent ; and your reception, likewise, Mildred, of 
the man whom you intended to make your husband, was certainly 
unique of its kind! ” replied the Earl, in accents slightly ironical. 

“ Lord Alresford, mine was a misery which then almost bereft 
me of the powers of reason! I feared you! I knew my conduct 
had been reprehensible, so long as the engagement subsisted be- 
tween us, in the highest degree. Try if you can consider me 
during that evening not responsible for my actions. I saw your 
contempt ; but ah, it did not exceed that I afterwards felt for 
my own deed !” 

“ Nay ; not contempt, Mildred,” replied the Earl, in gentler 
tones. “ I lamented that you thought it necessary to persevere 
in so dubious a path, and lacked sufficient candor to open your 
heart to me, to whom your confidence is due. Believe me, had 
you done so, the miserable anxiety of the last few days would have 
been spared you. Now, tell me, what was the purport of your 
journey to meet Colonel Sutherland, this morning ? ” 

“To ascertain the fact of his engagement. I could not rest 
until I knew whether I had been deceived — trifled with ! ” replied 
Mildred, coloring, and smiling bitterly. 

“And how did you reply to the confession of his attachment, 
Mildred ? ” 

“ How? By imploring him to proceed forthwith to Morcton; 
which he promised, on his honor, to do to-morrow. I knew no other 
way of making atonement to Miss Conway. Have I now finished 
my humiliating confessions, Lord Alresford?” asked she, hiding 
her face in her hands. 

Lord Alresford mused for some time. Mildred sat motionless 
— silent in the bitterness of her spirit. Presently, he seated him- 
self by her on the couch, and gently removed the cold, trembling 
fingers which clasped her brow. 

“ Mildred, let me look in your eyes. I have one more ques- 
tion to ask you,” said he, gently. His tones went to her heart, so 
that she even forgot her awe. 

She raised her tearful eyes, and faintly smiled. 

An eloquent and illustrious father of the church has said, — 
** Nothing is sweeter than tearful eyes. Eor this is the noblest 


PIQUE. 


113 


member we have, and the most truthful, and the soul’s own, and 
therefore we are so bowed therewith as though we saw the spirit 
itself lamenting ; ” and this same witchery seemed to be felt, too, 
by Lord Alresford. 

“I will forgive you all the past, Mildred, if you will now an- 
swer me truly and honorably. Deceit, on this point, could but 
entail upon us additional misery and alienation. Have you given 
your affection to Colonel Sutherland? Forgive me if my question 
pain3 you, but there must not — there shall not be reserve between 
us on this matter ! ” added he, quickly, as she hurriedly drew her 
land from his grasp 9 

How unutterably thankful did Mildred now feel that she could 
truthfully answer in the negative ! 

“ Whatever delusion I might once have cherished has vanished. 
It was a delusion, and is consequently dissipated forever ! ” replied 
she, earnestly. 

“ Are you sure you read your own heart aright? ” 

“ Perfectly. Colonel Sutherland can never more be anything to 
me,” added she, bitterly. 

“ Then let the past be forgotten, Mildred, and I own you again 
as my betrothed,” said Lord Alresford, taking her hand, and 
slightly touching with his lips her fair forehead. “ But, as you 
value your own peace ; as you prize the happiness which the future 
may sometime have in store for us, build not up again a reserve 
which can but tend to our further alienation. May 1 not reasona- 
bly expect the unreserved confidence of a woman, who, whatever 
may be her motives, has a second time pledged herself willing and 
ready to stand towards me in the nearest and dearest possible rela- 
tion ? Answer me, Mildred ; will you withhold this confidence ? ” 

“ Indeed, from henceforth, I will try to be everything you de- 
sire ” murmured she. “ And yet, Lord Alresford, judge not so 
harshly of me, I beseech you, as to imagine that either irritation 
or expediency have induced me to solicit your forgiveness,” — she 
paused, abruptly, for she felt she could assign no cause. 

“ What your motive is, Mildred, I will not now urge upon you. 
To your conscience, I leave it. One thing more,” continued the 
Earl, with some hesitation, while the color mounted to his brow ; 
“the compact between our parents, on which our engagement is 
formed, is surely well known to you ; but I fain would trust you 
have done me the justice to feel assured that, be your decision what 
it may, Lord Elvaston’s claim on what he has so long and nobly 
used, cannot thereby be affected in the smallest degree. Forgive 
me, if I distress you, Mildred ; but you know I am acting in per> 
10 * 


114 


riQUE. 


feet frankness, in accordance with my own counsel and advice to 
you,” added the Earl, kindly, as he noticed the rising flush on her 
cheek. 

“I never doubted your generous forbearance, my lord ; but it 
is now my most earnest desire to fulfil that compact in every 
respect.” 

Lord Alresford smiled. 

“ Now, Mildred, tell me what it was that first lured your alle- 
giance from me?” asked he, after a pause of some minutes. 

“ In the first place, you left me to my own cogitations, in a 
manner, you must confess, my lord, anything but flattering. 

“ Granted ; and you feared me also, Mildred ? ” 

“ I do not know whether I am totally free from that feeling 
even now,” replied she, more truthfully than she would have been 
inclined seriously to admit. 

“ Had my terrors been sufficient to awe your perversity into 
submission, Mildred, I should be more inclined to admit the 
reality of your words,” said the Earl, laughing. “ But if such 
a feeling really does exist. 1 certainly advise you to get rid of it 
as fast as possible. What is your third charge ? ” 

“You arrived here without giving me the slightest intimation 
of your visit. Had 1 not a right to expect this, my lord ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly, Mildred. But you forget you had placed a bar 
to our correspondence, by neglecting to answer any of the letters 
I wrote to you from Venice. ” 

This was unanswerable. She felt ashamed of the evident fallacy 
of her argument. She knew, and inwardly confessed, that none 
of these things had been the actuating source of her alienation. 
The wound lay deeper; though little did she then divine how 
profound a fountain of bitterness lurked in her heart. She looked 
in the clear, calm eyes riveted on her face, and longed to pronounce 
that name which for months haunted her imagination, fostered her 
suspicion, and pursued her even into the dangerous paths of dis- 
simulation. She could have wept, but pride restrained her tears, 
and sealed her lips. 

Lord Alresford perceived some arriere pensee lingered. 

“ The only way, Mildred, I see likely to bring about a good 
understanding between us, is no longer to delay our marriage. 
When once we feel our mutual happiness rests irrevocably in each 
other’s power, we shall, perhaps, then learn not to trifle with it,” 
resumed he, after a few minutes’ meditation, very gravely. “ This 
evening, therefore, it is my intention to speak to your father, and 
ask the fulfilment of our contract one month hence; and, after 


PIQUE. 


115 


what has just now passed between us, Mildred, you surely will 
not demur.” 

“ It is very, very soon. Lord Alresford, I beseech you, ask me 
not yet to leave dear mamma,” hastily rejoined she, as imagination 
vividly pictured the cold glories of Amesbury Park. 

“ Not too soon, as I am sure you will acknowledge. Amesbury 
must be your home ere five weeks elapse. I see no end. otherwise, 
to countless misunderstandings,” replied Lord Alresford, coldly, 
and decisively. “ I feel assured, Mildred, your good sense will 
n:t refuse to cement our reconciliation by this trifling concession.” 

This is arbitrary ! ” murmured she, in a choking whisper. 

“It is needful. Think me not harsh ; but Amesbury must 
receive its mistress within the next five weeks, if ever that mistress 
is to be Mildred Effingham ! ” said the Earl, resolutely. 

“This threat is uncalled for, Lord Alresford!” replied Miss 
Effingham, resentfully, rising from the sofa, and sweeping back 
her beautiful ringlets from her brow. “ Settle the period of our 
marriage with my father, my lord, and you shall find me all 
obedience ; ” and she would have quitted the room, but the Earl 
firmly retained her hand in his. 

“ Nay, Mildred, ’t is not thus we part ! stay, yet, a little quarter 
of an hour,” and he drew her again on the sofa by his side. “ I 
have much to hear and to relate,” said he, with one of those smiles 
Helen pronounced so fascinating. 

Mildred assented ; for how could she, with any propriety, do 
otherwise? A quarter of an hour elapsed, — then another. Pres- 
ently the dressing-bell rang, and the library door opened, and 
Lady Elvaston entered. She paused, in amazement, for the silvery 
tones of her idolized Mildred smote on her ear, and she perceived 
her seated by the Earl in the recess of the tall window. Lord 
Alresford instantly seized Mildred’s hand, and led her towards her 
mother. 

“ Dear Lady Elvaston, congratulate me. I have, at length, 
prevailed upon Miss Effingham to empower me to demand the 
fulfilment of our contract a month hence. May I not rely on your 
intercession with Lord Elvaston ? ” 

“ Is it possible ? Mildred, my darling child ! ” exclaimed Lady 
Elvaston, gazing anxiously on her daughter’s burning cheek. 

“ Mamma, arc you not very happy ? Why do you not con- 
gratulate me ? ” cried Mildred, hastily throwing her arms round 
her mother’s neck to conceal the tears which gushed from her 
eyes. “ Now, mamma, I shall leave Lord Alresford to relate how 
your indulged, petted Mildred was brought to her senses,” con- 
tinued she, darting towards the door. 


116 


PIQUE. 


As she passed, her eyes fell accidentally on the small writing 
table at which Lord Alrcsford was occupied when she entered. 
Upon the blotting-case was a sheet of paper half written over, and 
on the table by its side lay a letter, on the envelope of which she 
recognized the Avington postmark, and the pale, fairy-like char- 
acters penned by the young mistress of Wardour Court. 

It was evident her unexpected entrance interrupted the Earl’s 
reply to her communication ; yet the name of the Lady Catkerino 
had never been mentioned between them. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A fortnight elapsed — and at length the day fixed for the 
much-talked-of Dornton ball arrived. Invitations to the amount 
of several hundreds had been issued ; for as there was nothing 
that Mrs. Wedderbourne and the deceased Judge delighted in so 
much as in exhibiting their pomp and wealth to crowded assem- 
blies. the ballroom at Dornton Park was built on a most magnifi- 
cent scale, and everything money could command was lavished tc 
make their entertainments the most elegant and aristocratic of the 
county. Mrs. 'Wedderbourne had now been a widow full fifteen 
months, and though the good lady hovered on the shady side of 
sixty, the fortitude and self-denial she so long evinced in denying 
the gratification of her inherent love for ostentatious show, can 
alone be appreciated by persons who, like herself, find all pleasures 
dreary and wearisome, save those culled at random on the margin 
of the factitious and troubled whirlpool of fashion and excitement. 

True though it was, that Mrs. Wedderbourne had solaced the 
dreary period of her seclusion, after “ that untoward event of the 
dear, kind Judge’s unlucky death,” to quote her own words, by 
an occasional horticultural fete, a select dinner-party, or a meet of 
the hunt; which latter she declared, “made Dornton look like 
Dornton again,” yet the busy preparation for her ball appeared to 
rouse the widow’s faculties to increased vigor and steadiness. 
Early on the important day she might have been seen up betimes, 
superintending the decorations of her rooms, the suspending of 
colored lamps in the trees of the avenue and amidst the plants in 
her magnificent conservatory, the wreathing of pink calico and 
garlands, scolding her footmen, lecturing her maid, haranguing 


riQUE. 


117 


^Ovik* Caroline Vincent on the incalculable advantages she possessed 
in having her majority celebrated by so sumptuous a fete, and in 
unpacking those tempting-looking deal cases from the shop of 
some first-rate modiste, containing her own and Caroline’s delicate 
toilette for the all-engrossing evening festivity. Next she paid a 
visit to the houseKeepcr’s room, and after boring that important 
functionary with a thousand distracting queries, she put on her 
bonnet and proceeded to the stables, to make inquiries whether 
due preparation for the entertainment of her guests’ horses, was 
proceeding in that department. She then continued her promenade 
to the lodges, and after there inspecting the arrangements for the 
evening’s illumination, concluded by a forcible admonition to the 
lodge- keepers and their wives to be on the qui vice , and not suffer 
any vehicle of whatsoever description to pass the gates after nine 
o’clock, without first exhibiting the pink ticket, with which all 
her expected guests were provided ; Mrs. Wedderbourne having a 
horror, lest the eclat of her assembly should be marred by the 
insolent intrusion of any of those presumptuous personages, who, 
both in India and the United Kingdom, will take advantage of a 
crowd to intrude themselves; besides which, as Watson, her butler, 
remarked, “the dear Judge’s superb gold plate, and candelabra 
almost required the protection of a special division of the county 
police force.” The garden and bouquets next came under our 
enterprising hostess’s surveillance, until, at length, the round of 
her investigations led her again to the portico of the mansion , 
and hot and weary she entered her morning room, where, to her 
intense disgust and indignation, she found her niece quietly loung- 
ing in the depths of a well-stuffed arm-chair, devouring the pages 
of a new novel. 

Caroline Vincent was the orphan child of the late Judge’s only 
sister. When he returned from the East, Dornton from thence- 
forth became her home ; she received a fashionable education, add 
everybody began to look upon her as the eventual heiress of the 
Judge’s ingots. Great, therefore, was the amazement, when on 
the reading of his will, it was discovered that all his property, 
both real and personal, was bequeathed unreservedly to h‘s widow ; 
his niece being left totally dependent on her aunt’s good pleasure ; 
her name appearing only in the last clause of the will, which 
merely stated his desire , that in case Caroline Vincent rendered 
herself acceptable by dutiful and loving attention to her widowed 
aunt, Dornton and its appendages, on the latter’s death, might 
become hers. 

“ My dear Caroline, you must be well aware how greatly I 


118 


PIQUE. 


appreciate your general excellent and high-principled conduct,” 
said Mrs. Wedderbourne to her niece, some two months after the 
Judge’s death, as they sat at work in the disconsolate widow’s 
darkened boudoir ; drawing from the recesses of her sandal- wood 
work-table the important clause, which she had caused to be tran- 
scribed on a slip of parchment. “ I know,” continued she, “ had 
the Dornton estates been bequeathed to you, I should still have 
found the same love and dutiful consideration. But, my love. I 
wished to observe, it rests entirely with you, whether I carry into 
effect this clause, dictated by your very considerate, generous 
uncle. It, of course, depends upon whom you marry; for my duty 
to my ever-to-be-lamented and revered husband, peremptorily for- 
bids me making any testamentary bequest, likely to hand the 
place he loved so well into the possession of some upstart, vulgar 
plebeian. I am sure, my dear Carry, you comprehend my motives, 
so, if you please, we will expatiate no longer on this very unpleas- 
ant topic.” 

Mrs. Wedderbourne, as may be divined from the above short 
specimen of her oratory, was a devout worshipper of rank. A lady, 
or a gentleman, therefore, with an “ honorable ” prefixed to his or 
her name, came in for a most distinguished share of the Dornton 
honors, — a baroness or a countess was welcomed as the most 
delectable object in creation. Mrs. Wedderbourne had wealth, 
but she looked to Caroline to surround the wide-spreading Dorn- 
ton manors with the halo of rauk. She dearly loved those out- 
ward tokens of respect paid to her circumstances, if not to herself ; 
and never did her spirit repose more complacently ou its worldly 
privileges, than when she drove into the neighboring town of Stan- 
more with her sleek bays and powdered footman, and witnessed 
the profound homage which everywhere greeted her. 

Yet, notwithstanding all her strainings after it, Mrs. Wedder- 
bourne was not a popular person. True popularity is the offspring 
of a character guileless, unselffsh, amiable, and charitably disposed 
toward the faults and failings of others ; untiring and Christian in 
its use of those faculties, and means at its disposal for the benefit 
and gratification of others. Amongst the higher classes, those 
whom Mrs. Wedderbourne delighted in calling “ her set,” she was 
ridiculed for her ostentatious love of display, and her eager desire 
to gain their applause and friendship ; amongst the lower, experi- 
ence soon revealed the hollowness of her professions of good-will ; 
for, though the Lady of Dornton, to insure that popularity she 
panted for, caused the gates of her park to be thrown open to the 
public every Monday, yet the multitudes of obstacles thrown in 


PIQUE. 


ll9 


the patli of every visitor soon made all hut strangers give up the 
delusive pleasure, and left her woods and gardens in that aristo- 
cratic seclusion which she fancied lent a new dignity to her pos* 
sessions. She wished her neighbors, she said, to piofit by her 
beautiful flowers, and, accordingly, she condescended to patronize 
the floral shows in the little town of Stanmore ; but her gardeners 
were strictly forbidden to divulge the names, mode of culture, or 
other peculiarities of the splendid contributions from the Dornton 
conservatories. The same with her guests; though she professed 
to invite everybody to her large reunions , yet it was well known 
that one of Mrs. Wedderbourne’s friendly invitations was, at the 
very least, the certain warrant of two descents of gentility, which 
she had thoroughly investigated. 

But to return from our digression on Mrs. Wedderbourne aud 
her peculiarities ; the Campbells, among hosts of others, received 
an invitation to her ball. As friends of the Elvastons, it would 
have been much against the usual tenor of her politics to have 
passed them b} 7- ; but, independently of this weighty consideration, 
she really cherished a kind of weakness for Archibald Campbell. 
Of Helen, she had been overheard to say, when irritated, and 
declaiming against the listless apathy and affected tine ladyisras 
of her niece, that “ that pretty, modest Helen Campbell was sure 
to do well, either with sixpence or sixty thousand pounds in her 
pocket.” Altogether, therefore, the family stood well in her esti- 
mation. Mr. Campbell properly, however, declined her invitation ; 
but it was arranged that Mrs. Campbell and her two sons should 
go, while Lady Elvaston insisted on taking Helen. 

And Mildred — how had it fared with her during the past fort- 
night? Even as it will and must do with all when recovering 
from the intoxicating delusion of passion, based neither on religion, 
reason, nor esteem. She suffered acutely ; for a change had come 
over the spirit of her dream, and now imagination — that fruitful 
multiplier of painted shadows and brilliant ideals — lay subdued 
and dormant, she was beginning to appreciate at its proper value 
that position she had so long scorned, and rashly trifled with. 
Gradually an ardent longing sprang up in her bosom to assimilate 
herself more and more with a character, the varied excellences of 
which she was daily becoming more sensible of ; and she needed 
no longer Helen’s lips to contrast the upright, manly demeanor of 
her betrothed with Colonel Sutherland’s selfish conduct. Mildred 
had courageously made all the amends in her power to* atone for 
her error. So far as this went, she now reaped the reward of her 
rectitude, in the absence of that feeling of guilty deceit with which 


120 


PIQUE. 


we know how sorely she was oppressed ; hut, although she thug 
felt her integrity and self-respect restored, the immediate reward 
was not happiness. A fear, a melancholy presentiment tortured 
her, that in the pursuit of a vision she had forever forfeited peace. 
She knew she was forgiven ; but was her offence forgotten, and its 
impression erased? And this she had no means of ascertaining. 
Lord Alresford, since the evening of their conversation, never 
alluded to the subject, never expressed his opinion on any one 
point of her past conduct, never made even the slightest attempt 
to elucidate her true sentiments respecting himself. What did 
this insouciance portend? — total alienation, or a keen anxiety 
lest closer investigation might reveal a character still more irre- 
claimable and shallow ? 

The very evening of their reconciliation, the Earl applied for 
her father’s consent that their marriage might be solemnized after 
the interval of a month. Lord Elvaston, after vainly pleading for 
further delay, unhesitatingly gave his assent, and so the matter 
had been finally arranged. But, though now Lord Alresford was 
her constant companion, and they read, walked, and rode together, 
— though he was most kind and attentive, and appeared gladly, 
as she thought, to welcome her presence, — her awe of him was 
undiminishe 1 ; the little, magical word love had never once escaped 
his lips; and, with the exception of that one cold caress on her 
forehead the afternoon of their reconciliation, her intimacy with 
Sir Gerard Baynton was now established on as familiar a footing. 
Often as she walked by the Earl’s side, she longed to burst the 
restraint between them, to ask what now was the barrier to that 
near and familiar intercourse of spirit which she felt ought to 
unite them. But poor Mildred dreaded the probing of her own 
heart ; and, more than all, she sickened at the bare supposition 
that the Lady Catherine Neville’s was the hand which turned the 
fruits of her repentance into bitter ashes upon her lips. 

All these varied hopes and fears Mildred imprisoned in her 
own heart ; for not even to Helen could she reveal the suspicion 
which tortured her. W T ould not Helen, after all that had passed, 
look with contempt on a change so sudden, a spirit so vacillating? 
People little suspect how much advantage, opportunity, and conso- 
lation are lost by foolish solicitude as to how we appear, or are 
likely to stand in the opinion of others ; and by a vain deference 
and morbid sensibility to public censure, on matters which unde- 
niably ought to be left to the conscience and sole option of those 
whom they alone regard. 

Helen, however, was by no means an unsuspecting spectator of 


PIQUE. 


121 


the change gradually operating in her friend’s sentiments ; but 
both she and Lady Elvaston agreed on the wiser course of not 
abruptly forcing an avowal, cither by comment or remark, which 
might tempt Mildred’s pride to recoil from the consummation 
they both so profoundly desired. 

In thi 3 state, so unsatisfactory to Mildred, affairs progressed 
until the day of Mrs. Weddcrbournc’s ball. The following morn- 
ing. Lml Alresford was to depart to Amcsbury for a week, to 
make arrangements for the reception of his bride, and on his 
return the marriage was to be immediately celebrated. This last 
day had been spent as usual ; but no further approach to a more 
intimate understanding was achieved, so that Mildred, dispirited 
and unhappy, entered her dressing-room to prepare for the ball 
with feelings little in accord with the gay preparations at Dornton. 
This was the first and last time she was to appear in public with 
Lord Alresford as his fiane'ee, and a sort of nervous tremor crept 
over her. The excitement, however, threw such a lustre over her 
beautiful face, and her check glowed with so delicate and soft a 
color, that Helen, as she entered the room a few minutes before 
they descended to the drawing-room, paused in admiration. Aglae 
was adding the last touches to Mildred’s simple, elegant toilette. 

“ Sec, mademoiselle!” said Aglae, quickly, placing a bracelet 
in Helen’s hands. 

It was a beautiful bracelet given by Lord Alresford to Mildred 
on his former visit to the l’riory. 

“ Dear Mildred, will you not wear this? It would be a kind 
and graceful compliment to the Earl,” said Helen, persuasively, 
taking the sparkling gems, and clasping them round Mildred’s 
wrist 

“ No, no, Helen ! I cannot appear so great a hypocrite. Lord 
Alresford believes me heartless and unfaithful. I will not wear 
this gift — one of his few gifts — until he again clasps it on my 
arm ! ” exclaimed she, hurriedly quittipg the room 

In the drawing-room, they found Lord and Lady Elvaston and 
their guests awaiting them. Lord Alresford stood by Lady Elvas- 
ton on the hearth-rug, and Helen thought his eye expressed satis- 
faction as it lingered a moment on Mildred’s elegant figure. 

“Come, young ladies, make haste and take your coffee,” ex- 
claimed Lord Elvaston, as he glanced proudly from his beautiful 
daughter to Helen, who certainly looked as pretty and graceful in 
her suowy muslin dress as can be imagined. “ Madame Wcdder- 
bourne will think her ball fairly in eclipse until her two belles 
arrive! Upon my word, Helen, you look dazzling!” 


122 


PIQUE. 


“ All, Miss Campbell, who shall say you do not owe to me some 
addition to your very becoming toilette ? ” said Sir Gerard, pre- 
senting Helen with a bouquet of lovely flowers. 

Helen slightly blushed. 

“It is indeed a beautiful bouquet. How very much I feel 
obliged to you, Sir Gerard,” said she, hastily. 

“ Come, my dear ; come, Mildred ; the horses have been stand- 
ing at the door this half hour. Sir Gerard, I leave Miss Camp- 
bell to your care,” cried Lord Elvaston, hurrying his wife from 
the room. 

At the hall door were two carriages. Lady Elvaston. her 
daughter, and Lord Alresford occupied the first ; Lord Elvaston, 
Helen, and Sir Gerard followed in the other. The night was 
clear, and, though dim twilight hung over the distant landscape, 
and shrouded the trees and hedgerows in shadowy purple mist, 
objects along the roadside were distinctly visible. Lady Elvaston 
spoke little ; neither did Lord Alresford appear inclined for con- 
versation ; and as for Mildred her mind was busy contrasting her 
present feelings with those under which she had first contemplated 
Mrs. Wedderbourne’s entertainment, and the certainty of sharing 
its pleasures with the man, who then, of all others, captivated her 
fancy. An unaccountable sadness weighed down her spirits, and 
could she only have consulted her own inclination, gladly would 
she have ordered the horses’ heads to be turned, and the road to 
the Priory retraced. It was while absorbed in reflections as little 
consolatory and comfortable that Mrs. Wedderbourne’s dazzling 
illuminations burst on her vision, and the carriage rolled along 
up the avenue, which was blazing with pink, blue, and orange 
lights. 

As the party approached the house, the loud clash of a military 
band burst upon their ears ; and Lady Elvaston, who appeared 
highly amused at the elaborate preparations of their hostess, 
putting her head out of the window, perceived that the sounds 
proceeded from a kind of open pavilion in the centre of the lawn, 
exactly opposite the portal of the mansion, surmounted by a flag, 
emblazoned with the late Judge’s arms, waving between two large 
colored lights. 

“ The band of the Dragoons. Of course the officers are 

amongst Mrs. Wedderbourne’s guests,” said Lady Elvaston, 
anxiously, turning and half glancing in her daughter’s face. 

Mildred quietly smiled. A month ago she would have deemed 
this coolness as improbable as that she could ever have a feeling 
in common with her betrothed. As to the rest, she felt no dis- 


PIQUE. 


123 


quietude at meeting Colonel Sutherland ; for, a few days previously, 
she had delicately hinted the probability of this rencontre to the 
Earl, who promptly replied, — 

“Of course, Mildred., you will carefully avoid any singularity 
calculated to attract public attention, and consequently imperti- 
nent comment. If Colcncl Sutherland asks you to dance, I should 
advise you to comply.” 

“ For Heaven’s sake, let us be going, else this confounded din 
will drive me wild ! ” exclaimed Lord Elvaston, impatiently, as 
they lingered for a moment at the open windows of the apartment 
assigned by Mrs. Wedderbourne for the cloak-room of her guests. 

“ Mildred, you will accept ray arm,” said Lord Alresford, in a 
low voice, crossing to the spot where she stood. 

Silc ntly she complied. Her color wavered a little. 

“ Well, Miss Campbell, fortune for once favors me. I shall 
take possession of you as my lawful prize,” said Sir Gerard, step- 
ping forwards and drawing the hand of the blushing Helen under 
his arm. 

“Eh! What’s that you are saying, Bavnton ? I must put 
my veto on any premature monopoly of my favorite Helen ! ” cried 
Lord Elvaston, laughing. 

“ Ah, my lord, 1 fear my interest in Miss Campbell’s favor will 
only extend to her honoring me with her hand for the very limited 
period of a quadrille and a couple of polkas ! ” rejoined Sir Gerard, 
hastily. 

When the ballroom doors were flung open, Mrs. Weddcrbourne 
would have been content with the effect produced on her guests by 
the very brilliant effect her suite presented Most of the company 
had assembled, and lights and jewels glittered in the long vista 
of rooms ; bright eyes sparkled, and exquisite toilettes, some of 
gossamer texture, floated in the giddy whirl of the waltz ; others, 
of satin or velvet, fell in rich, deep folds around the figure of some 
magnificent dowager, as she slowly paraded up and down. Gar- 
lands and festoons of the rarest and most lovely flowers, mixed 
with draperies of pale pink and silver, adorned the walls and door- 
ways. Beyond the conservatory, which was brilliantly illuminated, 
Mrs. Wedderbourne had caused a small garden, which she honored 
with the epithet of “ her own,” to be roofed in ; and here our inde- 
fatigable hostess exhausted the utmost limit of her own and her 
niece’s imaginative genius. Bude imitations of the majestic scenery 
of Switzerland, burst with what was intended to be startling effect 
on the eye, — huge blocks of granite, piled one above another, 
intermixed with ponderous masses of slag, around the rough, 


124 


PIQUE. 


gnarled edges of which the good lady of Dornton had vainly 
coaxed, for weeks past, the verdant tendrils of some delicate 
mountain creeper. At stated intervals, a mimic cascade gushed 
over the rocks, and fell with a sudden dash into a deep precipice, 
that looked very gloomy and horrible, as Mrs. Wedderbourne 
thought, when the rush of water ceased, and many a laughing 
eye peered down into its dismal depths. There were, besides, 
grottos, sylvan bowers, green arches, murmuring fountains, lights 
so subdued as to shed around a twilight soft and mysterious ; and 
the air, moreover, was laden with the perfume of multitudes of 
choice exotics. All was so luxurious, so fresh, and inviting, that 
a murmur of delight — just tribute to the inventive faculties of 
the wealthy hostess and her niece — spontaneously burst from the 
lips of each fair damsel, as, heated with the dance, she strolled, 
leaning on the arm of her partner, and sank on the tempting 
divans on the margin of the fountain. 

Mrs. Wedderbourne received her guests in a small antecham- 
ber, opening into the principal ballroom, and there she stood 
when Lady Elvaston and her party entered, in front of a gold 
Louis Quatorze chair, looking as dignified and imposing as black 
velvet, point, and diamonds could render her. Near her stood 
another chair, on which lay Miss Vincent’s handkerchief and fan, 
as she had particularly insisted that her niece should remain by 
her side, and assist in receiving the guests ; but the fair Caroline, 
unable longer to withstand the united temptation of Jullien’s 
band and Sir Eichard Tennyson’s entreaties, suffered herself to 
be carried away to the dance. This small room, however, was 
thronged with people, many of whom were perfect strangers to 
Lady Elvaston. A buzz of admiration, however, prevailed, when 
Mildred, leaning on Lord Alresford’s arm, closely followed her 
mother. Never had she looked more radiantly beautiful, and the 
novelty of her entree cast a glow over her check. 

“ I think I never saw a more distinguished-looking man than 
Lord Alresford. There is something so good, and noble in the 
expression of his face. Don’t you think Mildred Effingham a very 
beautiful creature, Mr. Norwood?” said Clara Tennyson, as they 
paused for a few minutes at the folding-doors, just as Lady Elvas- 
ton was exchanging compliments with Mrs. Wedderbourne. 

“ Why, yes, she shows blood, and fire likewise, in those mag- 
nificent eyes of hers,” replied Mr. Norwood, critically examining 
Mildred from head to foot; “she is a very particular friend of 
yours, Miss Tennyson, is n’t she ? or, I was going to observe ” 

“ Observe nothing tome, 1 beg, Mr. Norwood, but what is highly 


PIQUE. 


125 


Battering to Miss Effingham ! ” peremptorily interposed Miss Ten- 
nyson. * ‘ Have you ever been introduced to the Earl ? I should 
imagine not, as I fancy your pursuits lie rather apart?” 

“ Why, I can’t say 1 ever met his lordship at Newmarket, though 
1 have in town occasionally. But 1 can tell you, Miss Tennyson 
— whether it is that his lordship piques himself on his favor with 
the ladies, or on his rank and riches — he thinks no small things 
of himself. He keeps one at arm’s-length with a vengeance ! ” 

“ lleally, I am surprised to hear you say s\ I have always 
found him very agreeable; though certainly there is a reserve in 
his manner. You know, of course, he is engaged to Miss Effing- 
ham? ” 

“ T he deuse he is! Well, you really surprise me! I never 
should have guessed that, from what I saw at Fernley the other 
day. I wonder how Sutherland feels this evening. You ladies 
are really unfathomable ! But 1 ’ll tell you what, I will contrive 
to scrape acquaintance with his lordship to-night, to please you, 
Miss Tennyson, and give him an invitation to the Chartlcigli stee- 
ple-chase next month,” said Mr. Norwood, good-naturedly. 

“ Do. Now, really, he will like it of all things, Mr. Norwood,” 
replied Clara, laughing loudly. “I am sure, also, .Mildred will 
feel gratified. By-the-bye, I wish I could get to speak to her. 
Stay ! never mind, it will do presently ; she is talking, I see, to 
Mrs. Weddcrbourne,” said she, restraining the (Torts of her bois- 
terous admirer to drag her through the throng. 

At this instant there was a momentary lull of voices, and Mrs. 
Wedderbourne’s smoothly-pitched tones were wefted forwards to 
the spot w 7 here they stood. She was addressing Lord Alresford. 

“ I assure your lordship, I have regretted excessively that seri- 
ous indisposition has prevented sooner the honor of making jour 
acquaintance since your arrival in our county ; especially as ray 
charming young friend, Miss Effingham, had long promised me the 
pleasure of an early introduction. 

“That’s what I call soft sawder, Miss Tennysor,” whispered 
Mr. Norwood, with a laugh, seizing his partner’s hand. “ But 
come these strains are enough to make the walls dauce — let’s 
have another turn ; ” and away they whirled. 

“ Stay a minute, I beseech you. Beally, Mr. Norwood, this 
polka will be the death of me. 1 want to speak to Miss Campbell, 
and Sir Gerard Baynton, who arc just coming towards us,” cried 
Miss Tennyson, suddenly retreating from the circle of dancers, 
•« How d ’ye do, Miss Campbell? Sir Gerard, I hope I see you 
well, whole, and entire, without ache or pain, since your striU at 

n* 


126 


PIQUE. 


Fernley ; for never having caught a glimpse of you since, I cannot 
fix a later date for my inquiries.” 

“ Oh, thank you ; really I never felt better in my life. That 
walk with you, Miss Tennyson, up the Abbey hill was as rein- 
vigorating as a month at Kissingen ! ” exclaimed Sir Gerard, 
laughingly, as he and his partner flitted past. 

Lord Alresford, in the mean time, as Mildred and her mother 
were still conversing with Mrs. Wedderbourne, leisurely surveyed 
the throng for which she bad made such magnificent preparation. 
Suddenly his eye rested on a lady seated far back on an ottoman, 
rather screened from view by muslin draperies. She was dressed 
in pale blue crape, and a profusion of fair ringlets encircled a face 
remarkable for nothing save extreme freshness of complexion, and 
large, gentle, dove-like eyes. Her figure was very elegant ; her’ 
air, and the exquisite finish of her toilette and manner, indicated 
that graceful ease and self-possession rarely acquired but by habit- 
ual intercourse with society, and that of the highest kind. She 
smiled, as her eyes met those of the Earl, who appeared exces- 
sively astonished at seeing her. 

“ Mildred,” said he, in a whisper, “I will be with you again in 
a few minutes, for yonder, much to my surprise, I perceive one of 
my old Venice friends, Mrs. Rayland, and I must go and exchange 
a few words with her. Of course, I claim my privilege of dancing 
with you first.” 

Mildred’s eyes followed the Earl across the apartment. She 
saw Mrs. Rayland half rise from her seat, and extend her fair 
hand, while the pleasure the meeting afforded both parties, was 
sufficiently indicated by the heartiness of their greeting. Mrs. 
Rayland’s pretty features beamed with satisfaction, as she invited 
the Earl to seat himself on the divan by her side, and her gestures 
were so elegant, so free from affectation, that Mildred involuntarily 
sighed. 

“ Will you dance, Miss Effingham, or will you permit me to 
lead you to a scat, where you will be less incommoded by the 
crowd?” said Archibald Campbell, who for some moments had 
been standing behind her un perceived. “The Earl, I suppose, 
will soon have finished his colloquy yonder, and will be back to 
claim your hand ; but even for a short time, I fear you may find 
this crushing unpleasant,” continued he, glancing somewhat indig- 
nantly across the room. 

“ 'lhank you. Lord Alresford has duly left me for a second, to 
greet an old friend, so I will await his return by mamma,” replied 
Mildred, hastily, and a deeper shade of sadness seemed to steal 
over her spirits. 


PIQUE. 


127 


SV glanced into tlie next room, and saw Helen’s graceful figure 
whirling away in the dance, and the animated, happy expression 
of pleasure which rested on the features of her partner — still Sir 
G-eraru Baynton. The strains of music were enlivening, and on 
the face3 of all around she saw smiles and seeming gayety and 
happiness, contrasting painfully with the feelings that obtruded 
themselves in spite of her utmost efforts. Mildred had, however, 
too much savoir vivre to suffer the uneasiness which preyed on her 
spirits to be detected by the giddy multitude around. If Lord 
Alresford’s indifference led him from her to play the agreeable to 
his lady friends, her pride supplied her with a sufficient quantum 
of nonchalant address to take it as a matter ©f course, and to act 
accordingly. Therefore, seldom did the sallies of the beautiful, 
witty Miss Effingham evince more aplomb ; or never did a more 
brilliant coterie of all the handsomest and most eligible partners 
in a ballroom gather round Lady Elvaston and her daughter, than 
during the twenty minutes Lord Alresford chose to devote to the 
lovely Mrs. Ray land. Numberless were the entreaties that she 
would dispose of her fair hand for the brief space of one of Jul- 
lien’s most captivating polkas; -but on this point Mildred was 
wisely inflexible, though more than once the temptation burned 
strongly to retaliate a little of the Earl’s careless indifference on 
himself. Presently he arose from the side of Mrs. Rayland, and 
joined the group round her chair. 

“ I know what you are thinking about, Mildred,” said Lord Al- 
resford, as a few minutes after they slowly proceeded arm in arm 
towards the ballroom; “you are displeased, and consider my de- 
sertion of you just now unkind, even though it were to greet an 
old friend. Have I interpreted your serious looks aright? ” 

Mildred hesitated. Had she been candid, and avowed the ex- 
quisite pain these small, though oft-repeated acts of cold thought- 
lessness in reality inflicted, all, even then, might have been well 
between them. But Mildred was .piqued ; and, perhaps, also, 
elated by the flattering adulation and homage which she knew a 
single smile could command ; and, forgetful for the moment of her 
own past misdemeanors, pride forbade her to manifest greater 
eagerness, or to appear to consider a larger share of assiduity 
desirable than what the Earl chose to offer. 

Mildred then turned her eyes resolutely away, and answered in 
tones slightly constrained, — 

“Oh, no; I have been laughing so heartily at Mr. Melford’s 
lively nonsense, that ” 

“That you did not perceive my absence. I understand you, 


128 


PIQUE. 


Mildred,” rejoined the Earl, quickly, as Miss EfSigham paused, 
and the color suffused her cheek. 

“ What an extremely attractive looking person your friend Mr& 
ftayland is ! Who is she? and how came she here ? ” asked Mil- 
dred, hurriedly, as Mrs. Bayland, and her partner, Sir Bichard 
Tennyson, passed them. 

“ Mrs. Bayland is the wife of one of the attaches of the Brit- 
ish Embassy at Naples, and a niece of the late Lord Willingham’s. 
She is on her way to visit her relative, Lady Catherine Neville, 
and came here with Mrs. Farnleigh, her husband’s sister,” re- 
spond, d Lord Alrcsford, coldly. 

To Mildred’s jaundiced fancy, the mystery of the Earl’s warm 
salutation was now sufficiently explained. A cousin of Lady Cathe- 
rine’s ! Mildred felt her heart close, and every kind impulse 
towards the elegant Mrs. Bay land enfold itself in its deepest recess- 
es, as Lord Alrcsford led her to join the same quadrille in which she 
danced. An introduction then became inevitable ; but she watched, 
with jealous suspicion, every word which passed the lips of the lady, 
as she kept up at intervals an animated dialogue with the Earl. 
Mrs. Bay land spoke of Italy ; alluded to various excursions, balls, 
and fetes where they had met ; but, for a long time, she did not 
utter Lady Catherine’s name, nor refer to anything in which she 
was concerned. Mildred was almost provoked to find how very 
unnecessarily her indignation had been kindled. 

“ These beautiful parterres remind me of the fete given at the 
Villa Pezzaro last autumn, only the flowers have not the intense 
fragrance of those blossomed under the fair sky of Italy. That 
was nearly the last and most pleasant of our many reunions ; we 
had Catherine, and poor Lord Willingham, yourself, that very 
agreeable Mr. Bandolph, — by-the-bye, have you seen or heard 
anything of him since your arrival in England, Lord Alrcsford?” 
said Mrs. Bayland, as, after the conclusion of the quadrille, she 
and her partner, Sir Bichard, strolled into the conservatory and 
lingered for a few minutes near the couch on which Mildred sat. 

“ No ; I met Mr. Bandolph at Madame de Pezzaro’s fete for the 
first time, and I have neither seen nor heard of him since,” replied 
the Earl. 

“ Mr. Bandolph, in a very short time, contrived to make himself 
wonderfully acceptable everywhere, I assure you, my lord. Fancy, 
Sir Bichard,” continued she, turning and addressing her partner, 
“ a man, handsome, well dressed, of perfect ton , clever, and, appar- 
ently, rich enough to buy up all the petty Italian counts and mar- 
quesses at a bidding, yet so delightfully mysterious that no one 


PIQUE. 


129 


could ever make out who tie was, or whence he came ; nor was he 
ever heard to allude to friend, relation, or connection ; and you 
may form some slight idea of the hero of our Palermitan soirees 
last autumn.’ ’ 

“ Upon my word, a perfect Monte Christo ! I wonder you were 
not all afraid of dealing with so suspicious a character, Mrs. Ray- 
land. You say his name is Randolph? ” said Sir Richard. 

“ Yes Pray, my dear lord, tell me your opinion of him, for I 
observed you several times in deep conversation, together,’ said 
Mrs. llayland. 

“ I thought him intelligent, well read, and agreeable ; but \ saw 
too little of Mr. Randolph to form any competent opinion. Id deed, 
I should hardly recognize him again. Is he still at Palermo ? ” 

“Oh no; after the Willinghams left, Mr. Randolph found us 
all far too insipid to remain. 1 met him once since at one of Princess 
Grassini’s soirees during the carnival in Naples. His devoted at- 
tention to Catherine before she left Palermo, drove poor Madame 
Pezzaro nearly frantic, and she did nothing but bitterly reproach 
herself for her imprudence in introducing him. It was even whis- 
pered Mr. Randolph would have proposed for her had not Lord 
Willingham given him distinctly to understand that his views for 
his daughter lay in another and more elevated quarter,” said Mrs. 
Rayland, pointedly addressing herself to Lord Alresford, and smil- 
ing so as to disclose a row of the prettiest and whitest teeth imag- 
inable. 

Mildred raised her eyes from the ground and listened. A smile 
lurked round the Earl’s well- chiselled mouth, as he turned towards 
the pretty manoeuvrer. 

“ Well, Mrs. Rayland, I suppose you cannot but agree with me 
that, for this once, rumor could not have more faithfully repre- 
sented Lord Willingham’s sentiments,” replied he. 

“ Of course. Lady Catherine must have been highly entertained 
at Mr. Randolph’s presumption. By-the-bye, I shall be happy to 
take charge of any packet or message your lordship may have for 
Wardour Court or Amesbury, as I leave the Farrueighs to-mor- 
row,” said Mrs. Rayland, as she took her partner’s arm, for Sir 
Richard was beginning to grow impatient at her delay. 

“Thank you. I need not trespass on your kindness, for I 
intend to be at Amesbury myself to-morrow. Do you expect 
Rayland at Wardour ? ” 

“ Yes, and no. He has left me in a delightful state of uncer- 
tainty as to his movements,” replied Mrs. Rayland, inertly, as she 
tripped away. 


130 


PIQUE. 


Though Mildred knew the Earl’s journey to Araesbury nad long 
been arranged, yet she could not repress a sudden thrill as she 
heard it now thus certainly alluded to. The feeling, likewise, that 
the misunderstanding between them was augmented instead of de- 
creased, on this the last evening they were to spend in each other’s 
society for some time, cast a melancholy gloom over her heart. A 
feeling of irritation also subsisted ; she felt aggrieved. Mrs. Ray- 
land evidently knew nothing of their engagement, and her innuen- 
does, and pointed manner, only more surely convinced poor Mil- 
dred that her suspicion of the mutual attachment of her betrothed 
and Lady Catherine was only too well founded. What, then, was 
the mysterious impediment which kept them asunder? Why had 
not Lord Alresford taken advantage of her past vacillations, to 
free himself from a distasteful marriage ? Preoccupied and mis- 
erable, Mildred sat, replying at random to the remarks of the 
Earl ; who, spite of her visible disinclination, persisted in talking 
to her on every subject on earth, but the one nearest her heart. 
She thought she had seldom seen him more animated and agree- 
able, and it was clear he did not consider it worth while either to 
resent, or allude again to the cutting carelessness of the rejoinder 
she would now have given much to recall. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Wedderbourne’s ball proceeded as brilliantly 
as she could desire. All her guests seemed pleased and happy, and 
danced away in polka, valse, and quadrille, with indefatigable 
perseverance. Her niece, Caroline, also monopolized a large share 
of the attentions of Sir Richard Tennyson ; in short, nothing 
could exceed the extreme satisfaction which swelled Mrs. Wedder- 
bourne’s bosom, as she paraded her sumptuous suite of rooms. 

“ My dearest Helen, pray be careful, and do not venture in the 
conservatory whilst you are so hot. It strikes like an ice-house ! ” 
said Mrs. Campbell, suddenly accosting her daughter, who, escorted 
by Sir Gerard Baynton, passed the sofa on which she sat. 

“Oh! Mrs. Campbell, this is a hint to me. Think of my 
incorrigible carelessness in hurrying your daughter into such a 
danger again ! What is this delicate-looking-fabric on your arm ? 
Will it not be more serviceable here?” asked Sir Gerard, laughing 
as he playfully took a lace scarf from Mrs. Campbell, and threw 
it lightly on Helen’s shoulders. 

“ Helen appears in high spirits to-night. I hope she will not 
droop when this tremendous fuss at the Priory is over, her friend 
gone, and all excitement also. Sir Gerard Baynton seems mon- 
strous attentive, to be sure! ” said Miss Jenks. 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Campbell, complacently watching the retreat* 


PIQUE. 


131 

ing figure of her daughter ; “ yes, Sir Gerard appears pleased to 
meet his old playfellow again ” 

“ Sir Gerard would make a nice match for Helen ; only I 
understand he is such a dreadful flirt, there is no reliance to he 
placed on him. He pays attention to half-a-dozen girls at a time,” 
observed Miss Jenks, slowly. 

“ Oh! very likely. Sir Gerard’s happy spirits, and thoughtless 
good humor, may very probably lead him into offering lovei-like 
attention to any girl who pleases his fancy. Young ladies, nowa- 
days, must learn not to take everything literally,” rejoined Mrs. 
Campbell, with supreme indifference. 

“ Miss Helen had better avail herself of the good offices of her 
friend, Lady Alresford that is to be ; for, I am told, despite his 
seeming good-humor, there is not a prouder, or a more exclusive 
man anywhere than Sir Gerard Baynton ; yet, you know, there 
may be a slight chance of her pretty face and manner having 
made an impression on the baronet’s heart,” persisted Miss Jenks. 

“ My dear Miss Jenks, we ought to feel much indebted to you 
for weaving such fairy visions ; which, I assure you, if realized, 
would give Mr. Campbell and myself more pain than pleasure ; 
for, although Sir Gerard would make a tolerable match for Helen, 
were he to do the improbable thing of falling in love with her, we 
are in no hurry to part with our darling child.” 

Miss Jenks opened her dull, gray eyes to their utmost extent, 
and fixed them with a most incredulous expression on Mrs. 
Campbell’s face 

“You are right, my dear friend; these violent smites are sure 
to go off. I never knew a match to result from one ; though, 
perhaps, I should except that of my own relation, Miss Arabella 
Jenks, who met Sir Denis O’Lawlor at a ball, and married him the 
following week ; but the case of a girl of Arabella’s pretensions, of 
course, doe3 not at all influence my opinion, and I only trust 
ray favorite Helen will discreetly shut her ear to the baronet’s 
flattery.” 

“ You need not alarm yourself on Helen’s account, Miss Jenks. 
Who is that gentleman dancing with Miss TVnnysou ?” asked Mrs, 
Campbell. 

“ The new squire of Chartleigh, boisterous Frank Norwood, 
whose harsh voice makes one's nerves shrivel ! I should imagine 
poor, drowsy Lady Tennyson finds him a sad nuisance in her 
drawing-room after dinner ; but you see he is rich, and Sir Rich- 
ard has no objection to a partnership in horses and dogs ; and, it 
seems, he goes down with the daughter also. Look, Lord Aires- 


132 


PIQUE. 


ford has again betaken biraself to the side of the young lady in 
blue crape. How wretchedly ill Miss Effingham looks to-night ! ” 
exclaimed Miss Jenks, as she watched Mildred, who was now 
dancing in a quadrille with Sir Gerard opposite to where they 

Bat. 

“ Yes, she seems languid and pale ; but this is not much to be 
wondered at, considering the- fatigues young ladies undergo nowa- 
days,” said Mrs Campbell, good-naturedly. “ Yet, look as she 
will, Mildred Effingham always appears a being of a different 
order to the girls around her ; there is something so elegant and 
refined in her manner.” 

“ That may be ; but, at any rate, the Earl does not seem in- 
clined quite to acquiesce, for yonder he lounges, with a smile of 
contentment on his very handsome face, by the side of the fair 
young lady in blue ; and if ever he marries Miss Effingham, I 
shall say that on both sides it will be hands, not hearts, that are 
given! ” said Miss Jenks, curling her little malicious lip. 

“ The lady whom Lord Alresford is conversing with is a Mrs. 
Eayland; and as to what- you say about Mildred, I always hopt 
for the best, Miss Jenks. You know there arc some persons par- 
ticularly undemonstrative in their manner ; but, after all, mor* 
really true-hearted than their bustling neighbors.” 

“ Undeniably so, my dear Mrs. Campbell, and I can only echo 
your insinuation, and trust it may be found all is well between 
Miss Effingham and her affianced. No one can wish her greater 
luck and happiness than myself.” 

“ How do you do, Mrs. Campbell ? What a bower of garlands 
Mrs. Wedderbourne has spread for her friends ! I never saw any- 
thing more beautiful than the effect on entering. 1 trust Miss 
Campbell is well, and my friend Archibald ? I suppose I shall 
discover them both presently amid the throng,” said Colonel Suth- 
erland, advancing and shaking hands with Mrs. Campbell. 

“ Yes, they are well, and both here. I conclude you are only 
just arrived, as we have not met each other before ? ” replied Mrs. 
Campbell, inquiringly. 

“ Only about a quarter of an hour ago, and I have since been 
paying my devoirs to our hospitable hostess,” answered the 
Colonel. 

“ Poor man ! I dare say now he feels right glad that ceremony 
is over ; for, though an admirable woman in every respect, Mrs. 
Wcdderbourne’s stupid, prosing pomposity is intolerable!” re- 
marked Miss Jenks. a3 Colonel Sutherland retired. “ But, my 
dear Mrs. Campbell, did you ever see anybody so altered in 


riQUE. 


133 


Uppearaocc as the Colonel? I doubt not he finds Miss Conway 
rather more unmanageable than Miss Effingham does Lord Alres- 
ford ; and, upon my word, I must own that for engaged people, 
their flirtation was positively scandalous. 1 am glad Helen did 
not join that mad-cap party from Scttringham to the Fern ley ruins 
a fortnight ago, for I hear that the Colonel and Miss Effingham 
did nothing but walk together, and that she actually saw them 
strolling alone in the wood in Mill Close. Now, 1 say, such 
conduct is perfectly disreputable.” 

“ Be sure, Miss Jenks, they exaggerate. I make a rule never 
to believe more than exactly one half of what I am told,” said 
Mrs. Campbell, bustling away, heartily tired of Miss Jenks, and 
her acrid spite. 

“Will you dance with me, Miss Effingham?” said Colonel 
Sutherland, approaching Mildred, as she sat by her mother’s side, 
some half hour after he entered the room. 

Mildred instantly arose. 

“ I was just entreating mamma to order the carriage,” said she, 
hesitatingly. 

“ You cannot refuse my petition, Miss Effingham, after I have 
obeyed you, — obeyed you to the very utmost. Shall we join 
the waltz or the quadrille ? ” asked the Colonel, a shade of deep 
sadness flitting across his brow. 

“ The quadrille.” 

“In the next room, then. Miss Effingham, I tell you I have 
obeyed your commands, and yet you will neither look at me, nor 
smile. Am I still unforgiven ? ” 

“ You have been staying at Moreton Place since we parted ?” 
murmured Mildred, faintly. 

“ No, in its neighborhood, with a connection, Mrs. St. Priest — ” 

“ And Miss Conway ? ” 

“ According to my promise, I made plenary confession. You 
ladies, Miss Effirgham, seem strange, resentful beings ; but 1 
must do Maude justice to say she behaved admirably.” 

“ She has pnrdoned your faithlessness, and you are then recon- 
ciled V ” asked Mildred, anxiously. 

“ Yes. — reconciled, if you will, Mil — Miss Effingham. Our 
engagement is not broken. My frank confession (for I concealed 
nothing) was a terrible blow to Miss Conway’s pride, which l fear 
she will not soon forget; and as for myself, I have bidden so long 
a farewell to happiness as almost to hail her indifference or resent- 
ment, as it holds out to me a longer prospect of freedom.” 

Mildred looked displeased. She hastily glanced towards the 
12 


134 


PIQUE. 


Earl, but he was talking to Lady Elvaston with as much coolness 
as if Colonel Sutherland had not been present. 

“ Here come papa and Helen, doubtless, in search of me ; 
mamma, I see, is going away. Colonel Sutherland, you must 
excuse my dancing with you,” exclaimed Mildred, suddenly 
breaking the long silence which followed his last remark. “We 
are returning home early this evening, as Lord Alresford leaves 
us to-morrow.” 

“ One question more. When is your marriage to take place, 
Mildred ? ” 

“ In about ten days,” faltered Mildred ; “ immediately on the 
Earl’s return from Amesbury.” 

“ I shall be far, far away from here by then, though my heart 
tells me I cannot bear banishment from your presence long,” said 
the Colonel, sorrowfully. “ Miss Effingham, may I not lead you 
to the carriage ? ” 

“No, no ! far better not,” hastily responded she, as Lord 
Elvaston and Helen came up. 

Mildred silently took her father’s arm, and in a few minutes 
she was swiftly wafted away again from the whirl of Mrs Wed- 
derbourno’s splendid entertainment, and the dazzling glare of her 
illuminations. 

“ So it is really quite decided you leave us to-morrow ?” said 
Mildred, holding out her hand to take leave of the Earl for the 
night, as they stood alone together for a second in the drawing- 
room. 

There was something in her tone which attracted Lord Alres- 
ford’s attention. He looked earnestly in her face. 

“ Yes, indeed, Mildred, as you know. But why do you ask? ” 
replied he, gravely and gently. 

“Oh, nothing; for no especial reason, my lord,” cried Alisa 
Effingham, hastily withdrawing her hand ; and, taking her candle, 
she quitted the room. 


CHAPTER XII. 

The following morning, the party at the Priory was much 
diminished. Lord Alresford, at a very early hour, set off on his 
journey, after partaking of a solitary breakfast ; a meal Mildred 


PIQUE. 


135 


gladly would have shared, had she not been restrained by the 
uncomfortable feeling that her company might be considered in- 
trusive ; consequently, despite Lady Elvastou’s gentle hints and 
final entreaty, that at least she would descend and bid farewell 
to the Earl, she contented herself with sorrowfully watching his 
retreating equipage from the window of her dressing-room, as it 
wound from the porch of the mansion. Sir Gerard Baynton also, 
unwilling to intrude on the last few days Mildred had to spend 
with her parents, accepted the oft-repeated invitation of the Ten- 
nysons; and returned home with them from Mrs. Wedderbourne’s 
boll. 

Lady Elvaston appeared sad, — Mildred looked grave ; and even 
Helen’s lively face and smile were sobered into serious pensiveness, 
as they took their seats at the breakfast-table. Lord Elvaston 
likewise seemed to find matter of more than usual interest in his 
newspaper, and ate his breakfast in silence. 

It was at length Lady Elvaston who broke the long spell ; for 
no one appeared inclined to hazard an observation. 

“ You do not think also of leaving us this morning, my dear 

Helen ; you will surely stay with Mildred until ” and Lady 

Elvaston turned away her head, unable even to allude to her 
child’s approaching departure. 

“ I will do exactly what is most pleasant to you and Mildred, 
dearest Lady Elvaston. I need not, I am sure, say what my own 
inclination prompts me to do ! ” replied Helen, affectionately. 

“ Then you will remain here,” rejoined Miss Effingham, quickly. 

And Helen stayed at the Priory. 

Only one more little week had now to glide away, and Mildred 
was then to become a bride ! Her position had stolen so insensi- 
bly upon her, — there had been such a total absence of bustle and 
preparation, — and even all allusion to the approaching event was 
so studiously avoided in her presence, and all outward things so 
regularly pursued their accustomed tenor, that poor Mildred was 
absolutely astounded when she reflected that sev.n short days were 
to usher in the most important event of her life; that in little 
more than seven times twenty-four hours she was to take a solemn 
vow to love and obey one whom she dreaded as a stern censor ; 
one whom her perverse imagination accused of harboring contempt, 
if not positive dislike, towards herself. For the first day or two, 
while alone with Helen, she did nothing but weep ; and when in 
the presence of her parents, her swolleu eyelids and the excite- 
ment and forced gayety of her manner, sent a keen pang to her 
mother’s heart. Yet had Mildred been compelled to a little self- 


136 


PIQUE. 


examination, she would have found it a matter of some difficult!; 
to account for the source of her abundant tears. Her feelings 
towards the Earl were inexplicable to herself. Cut to the quick 
by the cool indifference of his manner, wounded deeply by his 
occasional neglect, Mildred set a rigid watch over her words and 
actions. She haughtily refused to let him read the heart he dis- 
dained to win ; and carefully suppressed every outward demon- 
stration that might lead him to suppose his indifference was not 
returned by like indifference on her part; yet now had Lord 
Alresford stepped forward and offered to terminate her suspense 
and anxiety by the dissolution of their engagement, she would 
have recoiled shudderingly from his proposal. 

In the paroxysms of despair which swept athwart her mind, she 
accused the Earl of haughty insensibility ; and her cheek burned 
as she indignantly recalled the frigid, unlover-like distance of his 
habitual bearing ; forgetful how often she had repelled his affec- 
tion, and that now, if she wished all to be well between them 
again it was for her to evince, by a gentle winning deportment, 
that a change had indeed been wrought in her sentiments. Un- 
fortunately Mildred thought not thus. The petted idol of all 
around her, she had invariably seen the world at her feet, and her 
spirit chafed to find her beauty, wit, and a thousand attractive 
qualities powerless to vanquish the stoicism of her betrothed, or 
to make him, at her behest, both forget and forgive her past infi- 
delities ; and, fatally for her present peace, instead of attributing 
his coldness to displeasure at her perpetual caprice, and striving 
to amend, she sought its solution in an assumed attachment to the 
Lady Catherine Neville. 

Somewhat comforted by Helen’s vigorous exhortation, Mildred, 
after the expiration of a couple of days, recovered a portion of her 
serenity. They then walked together, revisited and lingered in 
every favorite haunt, and, arm-in-arm, strolled together through 
the beautiful gardens. A great part of their time was devoted to 
Lady Elvaston ; but none could adequately divine the magnitude of 
the sacrifice she was about to make, or how fervently, in the soli- 
tude of her chamber, did she commend her beloved child to the 
keeping of Him whose mercy and love so tempers every trial, that 
what presently appears most hard to bear, eventually conduces to 
some great permanent good. 

Nevertheless it must not be supposed Mildred’s wedding, though 
rather precipitate a one, was totally devoid of that agreeable excite- 
ment and bustle which usually usher in so happy an event. Man- 
fcaumakers and modistes, set to work by Lord Elvaston’s munificent 


riQUE. 


137 


liberality, racked their powers of invention to provide the most 
elegant and costly wardrobe ; and unbounded was Aglae’s rapture 
as she unpacked case after case, and spread out for her young mis- 
tress’s inspection their, varied contents. Every train brought a 
profusion of beautiful baubles, presents from distant friends ; aud 
one fine morning a messenger from the Earl’s jeweller in town ar- 
rived at the Priory, the bearer of a.magnificent ornament, part of the 
family diamonds which Lord Alresford had had reset for his bride. 

“ All very superb. A most splendid marriage gift, Helen ! But 
Edward Sutherland would have given these jewels to me with his 
own hand,” was Mildred’s comment, as she pettishly pushed the 
glittering casket from her across the table to her friend. 

Mildred had written to the Earl once since his departure. She 
had done so without remark of any kind to Helen ; and on the 
fifth day after his f irewell, as they were once more assembled for 
the morning meal, his answer was placed in her hand. She hastily 
tore asunder the envelope, and perused the letter without comment ; 
but Helen thought her beautiful face appeared a shade graver, and 
there was a kind of nervous impatience in the hurried mode in 
which she folded it and transferred it to the pocket of her apron. 
However, she said nothing, but presently arose from the table and 
stood silently by the window for some moments ; she then turned 
to Helen, and proposed that they should set out on a long rambling 
excursion, which had been in contemplation for the last two days, 
and on their return call at the liectory, and see Mrs. Northcote. 
Helen, who plainly perceived her friend was struggling with some 
pique she would rather not divulge in her mother’s presence, read- 
ily complied ; and soon they were both equipped for their walk. 

The day was delightful ; the atmosphere, buoyant and trans- 
parent, interposed not a single cloud to mar the brightness of the 
deep-blue sky ; and the soft, flowery turf yielded pleasantly to the 
tread, as they slowly traversed the park, and turned into one of those 
good old-fashioned green lanes, with mossy banks and tall hedge- 
rows, which, happily, even in this age of would-be improvement, 
are still to be found in some of the more secluded districts of merry 
Old England. 

Mildred walked on silently for some time, and Helen did not 
care to interrupt her reverie ; for she too, if the truth must be 
told, felt in a mood the reverse of communicative. 

“In what a very taciturn humor we must both have risen this 
morning, Helen. I verily believe, since we first set out, we have 
not uttered half-a-dozen words. VVliat are you thinking about ? ,f 
at length, exclaimed Mildred. 

12 * 


138 


PIQUE. 


“You have asked me a very puzzling question, Millred, which 
I do not know how to answer. Shall I retort, and put the same 
query to you ? ” 

Ah, yes, Helen, my meditations have now reached their cul- 
minating point, and therefore can only centre on one theme. But 
I know what your thoughts were also ; you were musing a little on 
the manifold eccentricities of my betrothed lord, a great deal about 
Sir Gerard Baynton, and at length jraur reverie subsided into a 
moderate degree of wonderment as to what the Earl and myself 
could possibly have to impart which would not brook the delay of 
a few days, considering the very cool terms on which we parted. 
Now, Helen, I will wager I have guessed correctly, by the demure 
look of propriety you are putting on,” said Mildred, with some of 
her former liveliness. 

“To say that I felt no surprise or curiosity as to the purport of 
your correspondence, Mildred, would be an untruth ; so I will not 
attempt to refute your clairvoyant faculties on this point ; though, 
after all, it was an absurd feeling, for, with your marriage so near, 
there must be many things on which you ought to be consulted.” 

“ Must and ought , my dearest Helen, are very fine sounding words ; 
but I assure you, I am far from presuming to offer an opinion on 
any of his lordship’s arrangements. The object of my letter was 
to prefer a petition, which I honestly confess, with many more, I 
had not courage to request in person.” 

“Well?” 

“Well!” rejoined Miss Effingham, haughtily, “ This morning’s 
post brings me an absolute refusal ! A charming foretaste of mat- 
rimonial felicity ; is it not, Helen ? ” 

“I am indeed astonished,” exclaimed Helen, after a few min- 
utes’ pause, during which Mis3 Effingham’s eyes were riveted on 
her face. “ I could not have supposed it possible ; unless, dear 
Mildred, in one of your desperate moods, you requested something 
very unreasonable.” 

“ You shall judge of the propriety of ray request; though, per- 
haps, you may secretly accuse me of a want of delicacy in disregard- 
ing your feelings, dear Helen. Extraordinary events, however, 
require extraordinary remedies, and I am resolved not a shadow 
shall interpose between me and one whom I love so much as your- 
self. I wrote to the Earl to ask his permission to invite you, my 
dearest Helen, to visit us at Amcsbury immediately after our mar- 
riage — a request he has chosen most arbitrarily to deny for the 
present ! ” said Mildred, angrily. 

The blood mounted to Helen’s brow. 


PIQUE. 


139 


“ What you tell me pains me more than I can express,” replied 
she, after an uncomfortable pause of a few seconds. “ Hoes Lord 
Alresford assign any reason for my exclusion from Amcsbury, 
Mildred?” 

“ None! Except, indeed, he condescendingly adds, that at the 
expiration of four months he will be happy to receive you as his 
guest.” Helen walked gravely on. “But I assure you, dearest 
Helen,” continued she, anxiously, “ the Earl couches his refusal in 
such very flattering terms as regards yourself, and descants so elo- 
quently on your many admirable qualities, that you will be quite 
appeased for the apparent slight on perusing his letter ; — so what 
his motive can be in refusing me the consolation of your society, I 
cannot divine ! ” 

“ But I can, Mildred ; I see it clearly, and the. Earl is right ! 
I beseech you, therefore, do not let any puerile resentment defeat 
his purpose,” exclaimed Helen, at length, earnestly. “ He wishes 
to win your precious affection, and thinks that more likely to be 
obtained without the intervention of a third person ; for you know 
when left tete-a-ttte dependent on each other, with no one for either 
party to fall back upon, must necessarily facilitate a better under- 
standing.” 

“ If I could but think his motive to be what you say, Helen ! 
but you are totally mistaken. Humiliating as it may be to con- 
fess, Lord Alrcsford’s approval and interest are centred in another; 
though I do not mean to say all might not have been well, but for 
that unfortunate affair with Edward Sutherland,” rejoined Mildred, 
tears of wounded pride starting to her eyes. 

“ Oh, Mildred, you know of old I cannot agree with you here ! 
Only smile on the Earl as you once did on Colonel Sutherland, and 
soon all will be well between you ; and in the mean time the nov- 
elty of your position will prevent you dwelling so pertinaciously on 
the past.” 

“ Well, there is some comfort in the thought that this is a world 
of compensation ; so what I lose on one side I shall probably gain 
on another! ” ejaculated Mildred, with a sigh. 

** We shall see! I predict the Earl will make an admirable 
husband ; which is something gained, in my opinion,” replied 
Helen, with a smile. 

“ Perhaps, Helen. But let us change the subject ; what did you 
think of Mrs. Rayland ? ” 

“ I only exchanged half-a-dozen words with her; she appeared 
to me pretty, elegant, and good-natured.” 

“ But dreadfully affected. Her manner struck me, likewise, as 
excessively free, especially when conversing with gentlemen.” 


140 


riQUE. 


“ Probably she has contracted this familiar leportment (which 
by-the-bye, Mildred, I did not observe) from long residence abroad/’ 

“ Perhaps! I wonder whether she at all resembles her cousin, 
Lady Catherine Neville ? ” 

“You will soon be able to satisfy yourself on this point; but I 
should fancy not, for I understand Lady Catherine might almost be 
taken for a Spanish beauty ” 

“ I only meant in manners and deportment,” interrupted Mil- 
dred, hastily. Mrs. Kayland’s fanciful, deprecating air, when 
speaking to gentlemen, proves her at any rate agreatfliit; and 
if Lady Catherine’s much vaunted beauty is not overrated, I should 
imagine this to be the only possible point of resemblance between 
the cousins.” 

“ You have made up your mind, it seems, that Lady Catherine 
is a flirt, Mildred? ” 

“ Perhaps the term ‘ flirt’ is rather too strong an expression, but 
I certainly consider her a coquette in the widest sense of the word, 
Helen,” replied Mildred, resolutely. 

“ It is difficult to judge. I do not think we either of us know 
enough of her to pass so severe a censure. Sir Gerard speaks 
highly of her, and he has no reason that I can discern for giving 
her a more high-flown character than she deserves,” argued Helen. 

“ Except that Sir Gerard, blinded by the well-turned panegyrics 
of his infallible friend, believes what he is told ; and I fear has 
also thrown dust into your eyes, Helen,” replied Miss Effingham, 
laughing. “ By-thc-bye, I have never had time to inquire into 
the beginning of that friendship which now has ripened into such 
hot alliance, Helen.” 

“ I first knew Sir Gerard when I was a little unruly sprite of 
six years old ; and many were the mischievous pranks we played 
together. Papa quitted Weldon when I was nine; so, dear Mil- 
dred, your imagination will not have much to feed upon, as eleven 
long years intervened without my hearing or seeing anything of my 
quondam playmate ; indeed, until 1 heard of his expected arrival 
at the Priory, I had almost forgotten such a being existed.” 

“ All very fine, my dear Helen ! ” exclaimed Mildred, with i 
saucy laugh. Then she added, in a graver tone, her smile vanish- 
ing, “ 1 fervently trust, Helen, my redoubtable Earl 1 as not formed 
any plan for honoring some unknown damsel with Sir Gerard’s 
hand ; as on many occasions his lordship has displayed such 
disagreeable tenacity of purpose, that I should actually despair of 
frustrating his designs ” 

“ As far as I am concerned you may very safely spare yourself 
any anxiety, Mildred, on Sir Gerard’s account.” 


I’lQUE. 


141 




“ Well, ray dear Helen, we will not argue the point ; but [ may, 
of course,* be permitted to retain my own opinion. I should fancy 
Sir Gerard is now heartily sick of Settringham, and its uproarious 
hilarity, and will be right glad to return to the Priory to-morrow. 
Does he ever talk to you about Lady Catherine, Helen ? I would 
give much to obtain a clearer insight into her disposition ; but I 
have never perused a line of her correspondence with Lord Alres- 
ford ; contrary, you know, to your prediction, Helen,” continued 
Miss Effingham, negligently. 

Helen smiled, as she noticed the ever-recurring topic of her 
friend’s meditations. 

“ Yes, Sir Gerard frequently mentions her,” replied she, briefly ; 
for Helen found it did more harm than good to retail conversations 
on this very debatable personage, as Miss Effingham, with perverse 
petulance, was sure to seize on any discrepancy in the recital, and 
thus distort facts to the very opposite of what was intended. 

“I do not know why I asked you this stupid question, Helen ; 
it can be of very little consequence to me what Lady Catherine is 
like,” rejoined Mildred, in a tone of pique, at Helen’s silence. 
“ But here'* comes Miss Jenks to infuse an amiable diversity in our 
ideas,” continued she, as they emerged from the lane into a large 
meadow, through which ran a foot-path leading straight to the 
Rectory gate. 

The prim, demure-looking spinster quickened her pace when she 
perceived the two young ladies, as the gleanings of her morning’s 
prowl usually furnished a delectable mass of gossip for the edifica- 
tion of some village tea-party ; invitations to which social meal she 
seldom lacked ; as, unhappily, the inherent love of “ hearing some- 
thing new,” prompts people in general, (however much they may 
inwardly despise the character,) to refrain from treating the scan- 
dalous busybody with the contempt and aversion so richly his due. 

“ Good morning, young ladies. I hope I find you both well this 
lovely day ? I trust her ladyship has recovered the fatigue of the 
Dornton gala ? ” 

After being assured of the flourishing state of their health, and 
Lady Elvaston’s also, Miss Jenks perceiving that her auditors were 
not inclined for any very lengthened parley, immediately had 
recourse to her strategic faculties. 

“I see you are in a hurry. I suppose bound for the Rectory, 
to visit that poor child, Lucy; those Northcotes are a strange, 
sickly set ; however, if you have no objection, Miss Effingham, I 
should like to walk with, you to the gate. May I do so? ” 

“ Certainly, if you please,” replied Mildred. 


142 


PIQUE. 


“Well, Helen. Low did you enjoy the ball? I live not seen 
you since,” asked Miss Jenks. 

“ Very much, indeed.” 

“ I think it seemed to give general satisfaction, and every one 
must agree our hostess was uncommonly attentive and hospitable. 
I always remark one meets with proper courtesy from those persons 
who boast of gentle blood, and Mrs. Wcdderbourne springs from a 
very ancient Indian family. Poor woman, how she glories in the 
pomps of this world ! I understand, Miss Effingham, she intends 
to give the balance of last week’s fete, when her niece catches a 
coronet.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ Caroline Vincent is a very charming girl, and likely to do 
exceedingly well. She appears a wonderful favorite with the 
gentlemen. I thought Sir Gerard Baynton paid her an immense 
deal of attention. I am sure I watched him stand behind her 
chair full half an hour, imploring her to eat an ice ; for caprice is 
the foible of our little friend. Did you not think he admired her, 
Miss Campbell ? ” 

“Sir Gerard an admirer of Caroline Vincent! no certainly 
not,” promptly responded Miss Effingham, quickening hr* nace. 

“ Perhaps, then, he found her jewels more inviting .ban the 
young lady’s own. Miss Vincent is no great favorite of yours, I 
presume, from your tone, Miss Effingham?” pursued M.ss Jenks; 
revolving in her mind how she should turn Mildred’s expected 
admission of the fact into a stepping-stone for further prying. 

“ I hope you have received pleasant news lately from your 
relatives in Ireland, and from the bride, Lady O’Lawlor,” inter- 
rupted Helen, adroitly, as Mildred turned a deaf ear to Miss 
Jenks’s query. 

“ Thank you, Miss Campbell, my tidings are very good, indeed. 
Such an unclouded honeymoon as my dear Arabella’s seldom falls 
to a girl’s lot, — such a perfect unison of hearts ! ” said Miss 
Jenks, maliciously glancing at Mildred. 

“ I fear we have taken you very much out of your way, Miss 
Jenks,” observed Helen, as ; greatly to her delight, they now stood 
before the door leading into the Rectory garden. 

“ Oh, pray do not mention such a thing. By-the-bye, did you 
know, Miss Effingham, that the Dragoons left Stanmore yes- 

terday ? There was such a lamentation in the town ; for, ready, 
they were a fine, orderly set of fellows. I went to the Queen’s 
Head to see the regiment pass, and was really grieved to take 
leave of that noble, handsome Colonel Sutherland. I hope he may 


riQUE. 


143 


be happy with his bride elect ; though I must say it was very 
shabby of him to deceive us all so long. Good morning, young 
ladies, I won’t detain you longer. Miss Effingham, I shall be 
sure to secure a good place in the church, to witness a certain 
happy event next week. Pray, make my respectful compliments 
to her ladyship,” and Miss Jenks very reluctantly wended her 
steps towards the village. 

Mildred and Helen exchanged glances only; for at the noise of 
the falling latch, Mr. Northcote, who was amusing himself with 
clipping trees in the adjoining shrubbery, came forward to greet 

them. Mildred, laughingly, rallied him on his known propensity 
— often very much to good Mrs. Northcote’s intense dismay — of 
vigorously slashing away with his knife, lopping off boughs by 
dozens, on the very spot where it was intended they should form 
a leafy covert to some unsightly wall or disagreeable object ; and 

then, leaving the worthy Hector to the enjoyment of his favorite 
amusement, she proceeded with Helen to the sitting-room, where 
they found Mrs. Northcote. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The sun rose brightly on Mildred’s bridal morn. The flowers 
and leaves, mellowed in the soft, warm light, lay with expanded 
petals glistening and exhaling forth rich perfume on the parterres 
round the mansion. Beyond, the park stretched far as the eye 
could range, fresh, verdant, and chequered here and there with 
broad fantastic shadows, cast by stately avenues of chestnut and 
oak trees ; under which countless starry dew-drops still lingered, 
sparkling ever and anon in the sunbeam, as the light breeze 
swayed the branches to and fro. Within the mansion, however, 
all was bustle and excitement. Smiling soubrettes tripped hastily 
along the corridors, each intent on her Indy’s toilette, and almost 
at her wit’s end, as carriage after carriage drove up and set down 
at the porch ; for the hour fixed for the ceremony was an early 
one, the Earl having arranged to take his bride at once to Arncs- 
bury, and Mildred wishing for a delay of a few hours, before 
setting off on her journey. Lord Alresford also had made it his 
especial request, that the ceremony might be performed in the 
most private manner consistent with the rank of the bride ; a 


144 


PIQUE. 


desire too consonant with poor Mildred’s feelings not to meet with 
her hearty concurrence. The invitations, therefore, were limited 
to her nearest connections (who were requested to meet at the 
Priory the day previously), and the families of the young ladies 
asked to officiate as bridesmaids. 

Soon after the company assembled, Helen, arrayed in her very 
becoming bridesmaid’s costume, entered Mildred’s dressing-room, 
looking fresh an l fair as a rose bathed in dew-drops, with the 
blush raised by Sir Gerard’s whispered commendation still glow- 
ing on her check. Lady Elvaston had just quitted her daughter; 
for, from very early dawn both she and Helen met by Mildred’s 
pillow ; nor had the watchful mother since suffered her to remain 
a moment alone. When Helen appeared, Miss Effingham was 
standing motionless before a tall pier-glass, whilst Aglae added 
the last touches to her toilette. She was pale, though composed ; 
and, unresistingly, suffered the delighted Aglae to exert her fancy, 
without remark or remonstrance. She stood with her back to 
Helen ; and the soft, rich folds of her veij drooped from her 
wreath of orange flowers almost to the ground. She hastily turned 
and smiled ; yet there was a quick glistening moisture in her full, 
dark eye when she returned Helen’s embrace. Proudly, and with 
throbbing check, Helen gazed on her ; she felt few hearts could 
long resist beauty such as Mildred’s ; and we know she never 
quite despaired of the Earl. 

“ Dear Mildred, how well you look ! ” said Helen, in tones of 
unfeigned admiration, as she took from Aglae’s hand the rich 
jewel destined to loop up the lace round Miss Effingham’s slender 
throat, and attached it with her own fairy fingers. 

“Dot? I am glad you think so, Helen.” 

“ Lord Elvaston will be here to lead you down in a very few 
minutes, dearest Mildred. Your bridesmaids are arrived, and 
everybody appears assembled in the saloon ; for, when I came up 
stairs, it was crowded,” said Helen, in as gay and unconcerned a 
tone as she could command ; she had been specially enjoined by 
Lady Elvaston not to utter a syllabize likely to endanger Mildred’s 
self-possession. 

“ What an admirable actress you would make, Helen!” replied 
Mildred, sadly; “you need not, however, be afraid I shall treat 
any of you with a scene. I have not so long schooled myself to 
resignation to fail at this most critical period. One word, Helen ; 
have you spoken to Lord Alrcsford this morning ? ” 

“ Yes ; he asked after you most earnestly ; nay, even tenderly.” 

A smile of incredulity passed over Miss Effingham’s lovely face. 


PIQUE. 


145 


“ Do you remember my lonely musings in the boudoir yesterday 
evening, Helen?” asked she, turning away. 

“ 1 do. But I also remember, Mildred, I heard you distinctly 
state, in Lord Alresford’s presence, that you wished to be alone,” 
replied Helen. 

Mildred did not reply, but slowly, drew on her gloves. 

“Do I look very pale, Helen ? ” asked she, approaching the 
mirror again. “ 1 wish it was all over. There is something 
terrible in the thought of being the object of everybody’s observa- 
tion,” said she, quickly, while her lip quivered nervously. 

“ With the exception, perhaps, of looking a shade paler than 
ordinary — the recognized privilege of brides you know, Mildred, 
— you appear to me as usual.” 

“ I suppose I shall not see dear mamma again until it is all 
over; her courage is not so great as mine. Harh, Helen! I think 
I hear papa’s footstep in the passage. He is coming to fetch me ! ” 
exclaimed Mildred, her cheek growing whiter still, and her eyes 
riveted themselves on the door. 

“ Courage, dearest Mildred ! ” whispered Helen, as when the 
door opened, and her much loved and indulgent father appeared, . 
Miss Effingham’s vaunted fortitude seemed on the point of for- 
saking her. Tears suffused her eyes ; and the hand which Helen ■ 
clasped, shook nervously. Lord Elvaston’s face expressed great, 
distress, but he wisely refrained from sympathy. 

“ Forgive me, dear papa! I am quite well now, and ready to 
go First, however, I wish to say to you, in Helen’s presence, 
that you have latterly vainly tried to dissuade me from this mar- 
riage, which you imagine utterly repugnant to me ; but of my own 
free will I have persisted in it; indeed, I do not hesitate to assert, 
that my future happiness depends on my this day becoming Lord 
Alresford’s wife,” said Miss Effingham, in a firm voice, rising. 

“ Now, papa, kiss me for the last, last time that I shall wholly 
and entirely belong to you ! ” continued she, flinging her arms 
round her father’s neck, and with difficulty suppressing the sobs 
of anguish which shook her frame. 

“ God bless you, my darling child ! Had I not the firmest trust 
in Alresford’s truth and honor, never would I place your hand in 
his ! ” said Lord Elvaston, struggling with his emotion, as ho 
folded his daughter to his bosom. 

Mildred then silently placed her arm within her father’s, and 
they descended. 

Followed by six blooming bridesmaids, Miss Effingham pres- 
ently entered the saloon where her friends awaited her ; and 

13 


146 


PIQUE. 


Helen’s eyes beamed with joy as she fancied 'she read pride and 
approbation in the Earl’s glance towards his bride ; a conclusion 
confirmed in her own mind by the warmth of his greeting. .She 
had little time, however, for congratulation ; and before she well 
comprehended how the change of scene was effected, found herself 
standing behind Mildred in. the chancel of the humble village 
ihurch of Greysdon, with the soothing, cheerful voice of Mr. 
Northcote sounding pleasantly in her ears. Mildred was still 
pale ; but her tones, though low, were firm and audible. The 
Earl looked handsome and self-possessed as ever ; and Helen, as 
her eye encountered the merry glance of Sir Gerard Baynton, 
smiled also; for, after all Mildred’s wedding was not the lugu- 
brious affair fancy pictured Soon the marriage service concluded, 
the bridal train swept from the altar to the vestry, and from the 
vestry to the carriages at the church-porch ; and Helen, leaning 
on Sir Gerard’s arm, speedily stood by Mildred’s side in the self- 
same saloon they had so recently quitted, listening to the con- 
gratulations poured on the bride from the circle of pink, blue, 
green, and white robed damsels and dames around. 

The ensuing luncheon in nothing differed from the routine of 
wedding breakfasts in general ; which invariably are embarrassing 
things to the parties most concerned, little edifying to the speech- 
makers, and wearisome to the remaining guests. Therefore, after 
thus passing an ordeal of an hour and a half, or more, Mildred 
Was at length permitted to escape with her friend Helen to the 
retirement of her own apartment. 

“So it is now all over, Helen ! For better, for worse, I have 
given myself to Lord Alresford ! ” exclaimed she, breathlessly, 
sinking on an ottoman. 

“ My darling Mildred, may you be happy ! ” and Helen knelt 
by her side, and threw her arms arouud her; for tears now 
streamed in torrents down Mildred’s fair face. 

“ Helen, strange and inconsistent as it may appear, I would 
not, if 1 could, cancel the vows I have just uttered ! ” exclaimed 
Mildred, sweeping the ringlets from her wet cheek. “ But I 
shudder at the very anticipation of all I am going to endure ; 
what long months must elapse before I shall be able to erase from 
his hear .. me bitter memory of my past folly and caprice, — before 
I cau hold that place in his esteem which Lady Catherine Nevillo 
does, — before he can again confide in me and love me ! ” 

“ Be sure he does, -—lie will ! ” murmured Helen. 

“ If I should find he still prizes Lady Catherine’s society mors 
mine ! ” exclaimed Mildred, shudderingly. 


PIQUE. 


147 


“ Be comforted, Mildred. Do not conjure up such impossibili- 
ties,” rejoined Helen, soothingly. 

“ I hope it may prove so, Helen,” said Mildred, rising, and 
wandering round the room. “ How desolate everything looks ! ” 
added she, with a sigh, as she missed many familiar trifles, and 
her eye glanced from the disordered toilette at the open imperial 
on the floor. “ As soon, Helen, as I receive permission from the 
Earl, I shall immediately write to you to fly to me ; and then, 
T think together, we will contrive to make even Amesbury com- 
fortable,” continued she, restlessly pursuing her wanderings. 

“ Yes ; what joy it will be to meet again, dear Mildred ! ” 
replied Helen, as the pendule over the chimney struck two. 

Mildred started ; for the minutes were fast flying towards the 
hour when she was to bid farewell to the home of her childhood. 

At the same moment Aglae entered the room, weary of awaiting 
a summons, to warn her young mistress it was high time to make 
the requisite alterations in her attire, — to exchange her bridal 
for her travelling costume. When this was effected, Mildred re- 
paired to her mother’s dressing-room ; Helen remained where she 
was, feeling too great a weight on her spirits to join the gay party 
assembled on the lawn below. 

In about three quarters of an hour Lord Alresford’s travelling- 
carriage drove up, and presently the Earl himself made his ap- 
pearance in the boudoir in quest of his bride. Ere Helen had 
time to account for her friend’s absence, Lord and Lady Elvaston 
and their daughter entered the apartment. Mildred leant on her 
father’s arm, and though her veil was down, Helen’s quick eye 
discerned traces of tears on her cheek, Lady Elvaston wept ; but 
insensibly a smile beamed over her gentle features, as she listened 
eagerly to a few rapid words from the Earl’s lips, as they followed 
together down stairs. Mildred exchanged hasty greetings with 
the numerous guests in the hall and vestibule as she passed, and 
again pressing her lips to her mother’s and Helen’s cheeks, she 
sprang into the carriage — one brief glance at the hurried, anxious 
faces of the dear ones she was leaving behind, and Lady Alresford 
was whirled away. 

Sunk back in the corner of the carriage, and feeling too miser- 
able to be capable of the slightest effort, it was some very consid- 
erable time before Mildred ventured to raise her eyes to her com- 
panion. She then perceived that his eyes were riveted upon her, 
arid uncomfortably couscioushow very indifferently she was enact- 
ing her role of bride, she blushed and turned away her head. 
A smile parted the Earl’s lips — - one of those smiles which had so 
captivated Hflen on the day of her first introductic n. 


148 


TIQUE. 


“ I have been watching the expression of your countenance for 
the last half hour, Mildred. You are looking and also feeling, I 
have no doubt, very forlorn and aggrieved/’ said he at length, 
taking one of her small hands in his. 

This was said in a tone of such genuine kindness, that tears 
unconsciously trembled in her eyes ; but she could not deny the 
fact. Ah, had she then but courageously and candidly avowed it, 
and its cause ! As it was, she suffered the Earl to retain her 
hand, and simply replied, — 

“ I shall be better soon — very soon/’ 

With a degree of consideration that touched her heart, Lor i 
Alresford then spoke of the dear relatives she had left behind ; 
and, relieved by being able to give utterance to the regrets which 
tortured her, she felt a burden removed from her spirits. Insen- 
sibly the Earl led the conversation into other channels, and such 
was the fascination of his manner, the extent of his information, 
and his evident desire to please her, that Mildred found herself at 
length sitting in earnest discourse ; her beautiful face radiant with 
smiles, her bright eyes beaming, and feeling more at ease than she 
deemed it possible a few hours ago. 

Twilight was fast blending all things in her soft mysterious shad- 
ows, when Lord Alresford’ s equipage passed the lodges of the 
grand entrance to Amesbury Park. Mildred felt her spirits sink 
again as they swiftly approached the mansion, now whirling along 
gloomy avenues of trees, whose towering branches, intwined and 
arched, excluded all but the feeblest gleams of twilight; now 
emerging again into the dim expanse of park, while here and there 
clumps of tall trees, like shadowy ghosts, flitted past the carriage 
windows, shrouded in the gathering obscurity. Lord Alresford, 
likewise, was silent ; while Mildred’s heart beat rapidly, and almost 
audibly, as the carriage at length stopped before the door of the 
mansion. The Earl handed her out, and in another second she 
stood under the roof of her new home. 

Dinner, which was served almost immediately, passed off with 
less restraint than Mildred once would have declared probable ; 
and some two hours after their arrival, the Earl and his bride were 
seated tete-a-tete, in a large, well-lighted room with a conservatory 
adjoining. For some short period, conversation was tolerably well 
sustained on Mildred’s part. Insensibly, however, her spirits began 
to flag ; and her thoughts reverted to her home, and the friends 
from whom she had so recently parted. Her eyes roamed slowly 
round the splendidly-furnished apartment, and then imagination 
piccured the drawing-room at the Priory, and its inmates ; she 


riQUE. 


149 


thought of her much loved mother, of her father, of Helen, till 
tears sprang to her eyes ; and, completely overpowered, she hastily 
pushed back her chair, and strolled into the conservatory ; unob- 
servant of Lord Alresford, who stood with his arm on the chimney- 
piece opposite to her chair, silently watching the progress of her 
reverie. The fresh fragrance and beauty of the plants around 
soon revived her spirits, and she had scarce paced the length of the 
conservatory before she became sensible that her sudden silence 
and flight, without word or excuse, were not likely to receive a 
courteous construction from the fastidious Earl ; hurriedly, there- 
fore, she retraced her steps ; but Lord Alresford was no longer in 
the saloon. She advanced, and stood motionless on the hearth- 
rug for a few minutes; but still the Earl c'arae not again. Glanc- 
ing anxiously around, her eye presently fell on a letter placed on a 
small table near the chair from which she had risen. Mildred 
took it up — it was addressed, in the Earl’s hand, to the Countess 
of Alresford. The few letters which had lately passed between 
them had caused her such, exquisite pain, that she almost 
shuddered as she tore open the envelope 

It ran thus : — 

“ My dear Mildred : 

“ When I insisted on the immediate celebration of our mar- 
riage, it was not with the intent of tyrannizing over your feelings, 
or of forcing you into the arms of a husband whom your heart 
repulses. Your own free, spontaneous act reconfirmed our engage- 
ment; and, confiding in your positive assertions that the past of 
which I had to complain was but a fleeting fancy — the caprice of 
a day — I trusted that you would not have taken this important 
step without serious commune with your own heart, or without 
feeling a certainty that you could eventually bestow your affection, 
where you had again deliberately pledged your hand. Unhappily, 
these hopes have not been realized. I have not been able to in- 
spire you with that love and confidence which can alone hallow the 
near and indissoluble tie that now unites us ; at least, I can only 
so interpret the marked avoidance and alienation you evince. Until 
your heart, therefore, Mildred, truthfully confirms the solemn vow 
you have this day uttered, regard me only as your best friend, and 
brothxir. The only return I at present exact or require from you 
is your full and unreserved confidence.” 

The paper dropped from Mildred’s hands. The Earl refused, 
then, to acknowledge her as his wife ; and cruelly threw all the 
13 * 


150 


PIQUE. 


blame on her ! For a moment she stood absorbed in silent, bittei 
reverie. She then stooped, and hastily took up the letter from the 
floor, and once more read it through ; presently she hid her fair 
face in her hands, and wept. Could she not retaliate the charge 
of daily alienation ? Had he ever given her reason to suppose 
that he had thoroughly forgiven her inconstancy during his absence 
abroad? Had he even deigned to explain to her, his betrothed, 
the exact degree of his intimacy with the much-lauded Lady Cath- 
erine ; or, had he attempted to probe her feelings respecting him- 
self? And now, the conviction of his indifference fell like a bolt 
of ice on poor Mildred’s heart ; for she was beginning to be too 
familiar with the torment of suspicion to believe it possible that 
when a word would terminate suspense, such word should long 
remain unasked. 

She was at length aroused from her painful reverie by the 
entrance of Aglae. The soubrette made a kind of little affected 
start when she perceived the solitude of her mistress ; but, re- 
strained by the sadness of Mildred’s face and manner, she repressed 
for the moment her flow of volubility ; which, nevertheless, burst 
forth with redoubled energy, some half-hour afterwards. 

Lady Alresford was, however, in no mood to encourage her 
loquacity, and briefly responded in monosyllables. 

Aglae heaved a deep sigh. 

“ Mais, par example, e’est la plus drole de noce that I have ever 
seen !” exclaimed she, at length, indignantly. “Voila madame 
qui reste toute seule, et monseigneur qui s’enferme dans son 
cabinet ! C’est assez a faire mourir de chagrin ! 1 wonder what 

Miledi Elvaston and Miss Helene would say.” 

Mildred made no reply ; and after Aglae had grumbled and 
fidgeted through the usual routine of her evening’s duty, she 
quietly dismissed her. 

As soon as her maid closed the door, Mildred threw herself back 
in her chair, and was presently buried in thought. 

After a time she arose and gazed round the large, lonely apartmem ; 
feeling more desolate than she had ever done in her life. She thca 
approached the window, and, pushing aside the heavy velvet cur- 
tain, threw up the sash, with the somewhat comforting assuranco 
that she would at least find a familiar friend in the sweet night 
breeze which fanned her cheek, and gently waved the fresh boughs 
and grass. The plaintive notes of the nightingale sounded from 
the thick covert of a neighboring grove, mingling at times with 
the shrill bark of foxes, and the lowing of cattle. With her head 
resting on her hand, there she remained motionless, absorbed in 


PIQUE. 


151 


wedi tation, till the soft gray twilight gradually rolled away, and 
rani, shed before the opening dawn. 

So ended Mildied Effingham’s bridal day. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

It was with feelings of no slight embarrassment and constraint 
that Mildred, on the following morning, prepared to meet her 
inflexible spouse at the breakfast- table. She lingered so long over, 
and evinced such strange caprice at, her toilette, that poor Aglae’s 
patience never was more severely fried. Nevertheless, Mildred 
might have spared herself the pain of revolving how it would best 
become her dignity to comport herself, or what she should say, for 
there was something so very kind, frank, and cordial, in the way 
the Earl advanced to greet her ; something so encouraging in the 
manner he took her hand ad led her to her seat, that she at once 
felt at ease, and enjoyed the beautiful prospect and bright sun- 
shine pouring in from the windows to her heart’s content. 

The meal ended, Mildred’s first occupation was to go over her 
new abode, accompanied by Lord Alresford. She paused, delighted, 
as she passed from one noble suite of apartments to another. Be- 
fore the pictures, also, she could haye remained for hours in mute 
admiration ; and many a rich treat did she promise herself here- 
after. One portrait, a Circe, attracted her especial attention ; she 
paused before it. The expression of the fair enchantress’s face 
was so pensive, and, withal, so lovely, and it was painted with 
such exquisite finish and color, that Mildred loudly expressed her 
delight. 

“ It is a study of Lady Catherine Neville’s, and I think one of 
her most successful attempts. It was painted at Rome about two 
years ago,” replied Lord Alresford. 

Mildred cast another hasty glance on the beautiful Circe, and 
passed on. 

“ And Mildred, I must show you a room long since dedi- 
cated to ycur use.” said Lord Alresford, ushering his bride into a 
small aparf ment, surpassing her most fairy dreams of ease, splen- 
dor, and luxury. 

“ Oh, how beautiful — how very beautiful! ” exclaimed Mildred, 
»s she flitted like a butterfly from one object to another, admiring 


152 


PIQUE. 


everything. All the old familiar objects that surrounded her in her 
boudoir at the Piiory here greeted her again. There were her fa- 
vorite books, her work-table, her drawing-desk ; bouquets of fresh 
flowers stood on the tables ; even her most peculiar fancies and 
tastes seemed consulted. From one of the windows, a flight of 
steps descended into a lovely garden, brilliant as a rainbow, with 
flowers of the most varied hues, in the centre, clusters of par- 
terres, glowing with fragrant roses, surrounded a small, bubbling 
fountain, which murmured pleasantly as the clear, sparkling water 
towered high w the air, and dashed again into the marble basin, 
scattering showers of pearly spray on the delicate pink petals 
blooming around its margin. 

Mildred turned towards the Earl ; her eyes humid with tears of 
pleasure — pleasure, not alone that he had wrought for her so fairy 
a bower, not that he had lavished on her a luxury almost profuse, 
but that the careful regard shown to her tastes and habits through- 
out, evinced, at least, that she had succeeded in kindling his in- 
terest, and that he must keenly have observed, to perform so well. 

“ Do not thank me, Mildred. If you are pleased, believe me, I 
am sufficiently rewarded,” said the Earl, arresting the eager 
acknowledgments which trembled on her lips. 

She turned away disappointed. A gloom all at once encircled 
her fair garden ; the Earl’s words appeared to sever his participa- 
tion in her delight ; he disdained her thanks. Silently she took 
his offered arm, ,and passing the tall hedge of rhododendrons and 
roses, the boundary line of her garden, they slowly wended their 
way towards the conservatories. 

A fortnight elapsed, and Mildred, in her daily increasing pleas- 
ure in the Earl’s society, nearly forgot her grievances. He was 
the companion of her walks and drives ; they read and conversed 
together upon every topic but the one which weighed upon her 
heart ; that she carefully avoided, and shunned the very Mention 
of tho name of the Lady Catherine Neville. Rigidly, tcc, did she 
set a jealous watch over her words and actions, lest any unguarded 
moment should expose to the penetrating eyes of the Earl the pang 
his indifference cost her. While he was content to play only the 
companion and friend, Mildred’s proud h&art resolved that no out- 
ward symptom, no weakness, should betray she would have it other 
As yet, she had neither seen nor heard anything since her arrival 
at Amcsbury, of the Lady Catherine, or of any of her neighbors ; 
Lord Alresford had never even paid a single visit to Wardour 
Court. Instead of being pleased, however, at this tribute to her 
o >mpanionable qualities, Mildred had the inconceivable perversity 


riQUE. 


153 


to be secretly dissatisfied ; and whenever she perceived a slight 
shade creep over the handsome brow of her lord, she was sure 
inwardly to attribute it to his pining desire to be restored to the 
society of his beautiful ward. 

One day as she was standing by his side, pencil in hand, plan- 
ning and superintending the cutting out of some flower-beds on 
the lawn, the sound of carriage- wheels rolling through the park 
towards the spot where they stood, brought a vivid flush to her 
check. She turned inquiringly to the Earl, as presently a very low 
phaeton, drawn by two piebald ponies, came in sight, and swept 
swiftly up towards the house. 

“ A visitojj to you, Mildred. ' I suppose people imagine they 
have given us ample time to weary of our tete-a-tete. What do 
you say?” said Lord Alresford with a smile, as he stooped and 
restored her pencil, which had fallen to the ground. 

“ Oh, I am sorry — very! But who! is the lady in the phae- 
ton? I observed she waved her handkerchief as she passed us,” 
said Mildred, hastily ; for it flashed across her that her visitor 
might be the young mistress of Wardour Court. 

“ The only lady in this neighborhood, who, to mv knowledge, 
drives ponies, is Mrs. St. Priest; a very affected, whimsical per- 
sonage. 1 wish -you to be civil to her, Mildred, and nothing 
more,” said Lord Alresford, as arm in arm they proceeded towards 
the house. 

Mrs. St. Priest, notwithstanding the disparaging manner in 
which the Earl spoke of her, occupied rather a prominent position 
among the notabilities of the neighborhood. She was one of those 
aspiring people who will and do make their way above the heads of 
others with higher pretensions and more definite claims to distinc- 
tion than themselves. Mrs. St. Priest’s father was a gambler of 
the first water, and died leaving his daughter penniless ; depend- 
ent on her wits to provide for her future support. This resource, 
however, served her so well, that she succeeded in captivating the 
affections of Major St Priest, a man considerably her senior ; and 
who survived their union only three years, leaving his widow in 
affluent circumstances, and moving in a much higher sphere tha? 
her birth entitled her to aspire to. 

The ambition of Mrs. St. Priest, the well-jointured w : ] .w hen 
took a more developed form, and she speedily soared towards a sec- 
ond and much grander alliance. I n the course of her ruminations on 
the important subject, it struck her ,that to accomplish this darling 
object — to raise her position in life — something more was needed 
than the actual possession of pounds, shillings, and pence ; for. 


154 


PIQUE. 


among her numerous acquaintance, she numbered several ladies as 
well to do in the world as herself, who still remained only well- 
dowered widows ; or who were going in due time to exchange their 
weeds, and enter into the holy state again with men of their own 
condition and degree. This conviction brought sore perplexity to 
Mrs. St. Priest’s mind. To distinguish herself from the common 
herd, she could not set up for a literary lady ; for, alas ! her 
father’s pursuits and resources flowed ever in a channel totally 
opposite to the encouragement of learning and belles-lettres; nei- 
ther could she lay claim to the distinction of beauty ; for the 
admission of mere prettiness was all she dare challenge from the 
world ; but Mrs. St. Priest knew that her manners were soft and 
caressing, that her deportment was perfectly ladylike and insinu- 
ating; besides, her glass reflected the dazzling lily of her complex- 
ion, and the^long wavy curls of bright auburn hair which floated 
on her shoulders. Now, these were advantages not to be despised ; 
and, after much calculation, she arrived at the conclusion, that 
the character of an ultra-refined lady — a being fragile and deli- 
cate, tremblingly alive to the disagreeables of life, and vividly 
sensible to anything approaching the coarse and vulgar, would 
best veil her origin and her ambitious designs, and promote her 
schemes of aggrandizement. This point decided, Mrs. St. Priest 
next looked out for a suitable arena to enact her comedy ; and, 
after much careful investigation, she fixed on the county of 

D shire, and took on lease a small mansion belonging to Lord 

Normanton ; not a little allured to this step, it must be frankly 
owned, by the significant fact that the four principal land- owners 
in the immediate neighborhood were young and wealthy bachelors. 
Here Mrs. St. Priest duly installed herself, having first appropri- 
ately changed the name of her abode from “ The Briars,” to the 
more euphonious one of Mon-Bijou. After driving about in her ele- 
gant phaeton for some months, in every direction, Mrs. St. Priest 
at length was honored by a morning call from her landlord’s mother. 
Lady Normanton. When this favor on the part of one of the 
leaders of the county ton , became bruited abroad, the widow soon 
saw her doors besieged by numbers of the minor potentates of fash- 
ion ; and from that day (about three years previous to the period 
of our history) she contrived so artfully to maintain her position, 
that no one was surpr’sed to hear, on the return home of Lady 
Catherine Neville, that the elegant widow had paid her a visit, and 
was graciously received at Wardour Court. 

Airs. St. Priest had now reached the age of thirty-three ; and 
notwithstanding the remarkable volatility of her genius for in 


PIQUE. 


155 


trigue and iffectation, was likely still to remain a widow. It was, 
therefore, with feelings of no small indignation she learned that 
her nearest neighbor, Lord Alresford, had presumed to offer else- 
where the possession of his hand and wealth ; not that she had 
formed any decided design upon him, but it destroyed one of her 
chances. 

To allude to one or two more of Mrs. St Priest’s characteristics ; 
her voice was low, and remarkably sweet and plaintive, which took 
irresistibly with some of her hearers. Her attire was likewise, 
carefully studied. Her cambric and lawn were like spiders’ webs; 
nothing of so marvellous a texture had ever been seen by the laun- 
dresses of the neighborhood, before tile arrival of the refined mis- 
tress of Mon-Bijou. The skirts of her dresses were also of extraor- 
dinary amplitude, and swept the ground; and whenever she 
moved it was in the midst of a cloud of perfume : indeed, Mrs. 
St. Priest might have been traced for miles by the powerful odor 
of her patchouli and sandal- wood. 

When Mildred entered the drawing-room, her visitor was stand- 
ing at the window gazing on the clumps of rhododendrons in full 
bloom on the lawn. A little, white Italian greyhound, which she 
led about by a silver chain, shivered by her side. Mrs. St. Priest 
advanced, and went through the ceremony of introduction with more 
than her usual grace and suavity of manner ; for, to tell the truth, 
she felt on uncertain ground, and would rather not have ventured, at 
any rate upon so early a visit, without before testing its acccpta- 
bleness ; but Mrs. St. Priest, however, had a very especial reason 
for calling upon Mildred. 

“ It is so excessively kind of you to leave your delightful out- 
door occupation to talk to me ! ” said she, reassured by Lady Alres- 
ford’s polite expressions of pleasure at receiving her ; then seating 
herself, she threw aside half-a-dozen wraps, so as to reveal her 
delicate Mechlin collar, and the fashionable morning robe which 
fitted her compact little figure like wax ; for Mrs. St. Priest had 
somehow imbibed the notion that it demonstrated a kind of aris- 
tocratic ease and nonchalance to envelop herself, whenever she 
stirred abroad, in as many miscellaneous cloaks and shawls as 
would suffice a rheumatic old dowager at Christmas. “ What a 
paradise you have here, Lady Alresford ! A garden fit for the 
houris! But the Earl has such exquisite taste,” continued she. 

“Are you fond of flowers ?” a^ked Mildred, after waiting a 
moment to see whether Lord Alresford chose to respond to the 
compliment. 

“ Ps,ssioi ately ! They are to me one of the chief charms of 


156 


PIQUE. 


existence. I could pass hours among my flowers. I suppose youi 
lordship is planning some addition to the gardens here, as I 
observed sundry fresh cut beds?” 

“ No ; we were, on the contrary, at work under Lady Alrcsford’s 
superintendence, when you passed,” replied the Earl. 

“Unhappily, I have not strength, like Lady Catherine Neville, 
to take an active share in the management of my humble garden. 
If I stoop or even stand about giving directions for an hour, I feel 
so wretchedly I am fit for nothing else the entire day. 1 suppose, 
Lady Alresford, you have already made acquaintance with Lady 
Catherine, the belle of our neighborhood ? ” 

“ No, I have not yet seen her ladyship,” replied Mildred, with 
rather a sturdy accent. 

“ Is it possible! How very intrusive, then, must my visit ap- 
pear!” ejaculated Mrs. St. Priest, affectedly, casting her blue 
eyes up to the ceiling, and clasping her hands. “ Lady Catherine, 
however, is so frequently indisposed ; indeed, I often imagine War- 
dour must be too bleak a spot for one accustomed to the genial 
temperature of an Italian climate. She always appears to me 
depressed in spirits — abstracted; precisely like one struggling 
under the ascendency of unrequited love ; yet we all know this 
cannot be, for Lady Catherine has but to smile to see all the world 
at her feet,” continued she, glancing sharply at Mildred, who had 
taken up her embroidery. 

The Earl laughed aloud. Both Lady Alresford’s and the wid- 
ow’s eyes rested upon him at the same moment. 

“ If you mean to insinuate, Mrs. St. Priest, that Lady Cathe- 
rine is too amiable and generous to withhold a certain degree of 
benevolent feeling towards every one, good, bad, or indifferent, 
who falls in her way, and often reaps a poor return for her kind- 
ness and condescension, I certainly agree w’ith you, in this sense, 
that she is a victim of what you call unrequited love ; though, 
allow me to assure you that at this point your commiseration may 
cease, as no one honored by her serious preference could possibly 
be insensible of the value of the boon conferred ! ” 

“Undoubtedly! Lady Catherine is a most charming, delight- 
ful person, and is certain some day to make a brilliant match ; but 
for all this, to my idea, there is a great depth of melancholy in 
her character — something so elevated and refined, so above the 
common level of minds, which 1 consider one of her chief attrac- 
tions. That old Mrs. Otway must be terribly tiresome as a com- 
panion, with her garrulous gossip ; don’t you think so, m^ lord?” 
asked Mrs. St Priest, with a silvery laugh. 


riQUE. 


157 


“Mrs. Otway is a great friend of mine; and if you knew all 
her sterling worth, you would think her the very reverse of tire- 
some,” replied Lord Alresford, quietly. 

“ Hdr knitting capabilities arc worth something certainly, for 
the drawing-room at Wardour Court resembles the show-room of a 
linen draper, with her vulgar cotton anti-macassars and covers ! ” 
said Mrs. St. Priest, with a sneer, applying the delicate cobweb in 
her hand to her nose, as she arose to inspect Mildred’s labors. 

Her movement roused the tiny greyhound from its slumbers. 

“Hush, hush, Donna! Be quiet, my pet!” said Mrs, St. 
Priest, caressingly, as the little animal started up and commenced 
a shrill bark, which sot tinkling all the small silver bells around 
its collar. “ Now make your obeisance to the Countess, like a 
well-bred dog. Now,” continued she, jerking the small chain in 
her hand ; and presently, in obedience to its mistress’s commands, 
the well-trained little creature stood up on its hind legs, absurdly 
capered about, and twisted its poor head into all manner of con- 
tortions. 

“ By-the-bye, my lord, did you meet Lord Norman ton in the 
course of your rambles abroad? ” 

“ No ; 1 chiefly resided in Italy, and I believe Lady Normanton 
told me her son was travelling in Greece and Turkey.” 

“Yes; but that was long ago. What a pity it is that young 
men will expatriate themselves for so long, wasting their talents 
and energy in a foreign land. Poor Lady Normanton, with her 
delicate nerves suffers more than I can express ! ” 

“I have no recollection of having met Lord Normanton; at the 
same time it is quite possible I may have done so.” 

“ Ah, my lord, it was very bad of you to set so pernicious an 
example, and prefer Italy for so many years to your native coun- 
try! I think we, your neighbors, may triumph a little after your 
long neglect, knowing to wha*t fair object wc now solely owe your 
presence. Do you noc think we may, Lady Alresford? ” said Mis. 
St. Priest; in her most dulcet tones. 

“ Why, really Mrs. St. Priest, I dare not take upon mysell to 
assert so much,” replied Lady Alresford, with a smile ; though a 
faint color tinged her cheek, and her eyes involuntarily turned 
towards her husband. 

Mrs. St. Priest glanced sharply from her to the Earl; who, 
wearied by the widow’s nonsense, at this moment rose from his 
chair an i strolled towards the window. 

“ Do you know the Conways, Lady Alresford?” said she, after 
a lengthened pause. Mildred briefly replying in the negative, she 


158 


PIQUE. 


continued, — “ Isabella Conway is considered a great beauty ; she 
and I are very intimate. Miss Conway; who you know is engaged 
to marry Colonel Sutherland, nephew of the late Major St. Priest, 
is also a pretty girl, though not so great a favorite of mine as her 
sister. It is absolutely shocking to see the amount of rude health 
she enjoys ; her nerves seem of iron. Did you ever meet Colonel 
Sutherland, Lady Alresford ? I believe he has been recently 
stationed in the neighborhood of Stanmore.” 

“ Yes ; I know Colonel Sutherland well. He was a frequent 
guest at the Priory,” replied Mildred, firmly; though her graceful 
head sank lower over the embroiderv-frame. 

“ Edward Sutherland is a most agreeable, volatile fellow; though 
I fear a sad flirt,” said Mrs. St. Priest, riveting her azure eyes on 
the Countess. “ I hope both the Conways will do well, and pros- 
per. It is rumored, though I know not with what truth, that 
Isabella has set her heart on the possession of all Mr. Egremont 
Turville’s pretty things at IS 1 ethercote. Is that my carriage, my 
lord ? ” exclaimed she, as her ear caught the sound of wheels on 
the gravelled court in front of the mansion. 

“ Lady Catherine Neville has just driven up; but your ponies, 
Mrs. St. Priest, have been standing at the door for some time,” 
replied the Earl, nonchalantly. 

“ Indeed ! I must say good-morning to Lady Catherine, and 
then fly away to fulfil an engagement at Moreton Place,” respond- 
ed Mrs. St. Priest, hastily, drawing her shawls over her shoulders. 

As for Mildred, the bright color glowed in her cheeks, and her 
fingers wandered rather nervously amongst the silks on the table 
by her side ; but no other signs of the inward emotion which now 
made her heart palpitate escaped her. Much need, indeed, did 
she stand of her hardly-acquired self-command, and of the re- 
straining presence of a third party, to meet with equanimity the 
pleasure which lighted up Lord Alresford’ s handsome features 
when the Lady Catherine was announced, and the frank heartiness 
of his welcome, as he led her to the spot where she stood. Silent- 
ly, with a pang in her heart and a smile on her lip, poor Mildred 
gazed with envy on the pure, placid brow of her visitor, who ad- 
vanced eagerly towards her with a bright smile parting her beau- 
tiful lips, and her face glowing with pleasure and satisfaction. 

“ May I not greet you, dear Lady Alresford, as an old, a be- 
loved friend ? Need we, indeed, go through the formality of an 
introduction ? ” said Lady Catherine, pressing her lips to the 
Countess’s forehead. 

Mildred returned the salute ; but the first thought lingered 


PIQUE. 


159 


She raised her eyes and saw the joyous smile yet rested on her 
husband’s face which so seldom greeted her ; and the chill crept 
again over her spirits. 

Lady Catherine’s face was shaded with a slight, though a very 
slight, tinge of disappointment, as she turned away ; when, appar- 
ently perceiving Mrs. St. Priest for the first time, she made a 
slight inclination to her before taking her seat. Mildred was 
struck by its cold haughtiness ; and, shall we confess it, her eye 
rested more complacently on the drooping figure of the widow, who 
now stood ready to make her adieus. 

“ I trust I shall have the honor of receiving your ladyship at 
Mon-Bijou, whenever you have nothing of more interest to occupy 
your time,” said Mrs. St. Priest, with her most winning manner 
and air, as Mildred bade her farewell. “Lady Catherine, I wish 
you good-morning. Pray, present my compliments to Mrs. Otway.” 

Lady Catherine bowed ; and Mrs. St. Priest, escorted by Lord 
Alresford, quitted the room. 

“ I was amazed to find Mrs. St. Priest here. I had so set my 
heart on being your first visitor, Mildred. May I not call you 
Mildred ? ” said Lady Catherine, seating herself on the couch 
close to Lady Alresford. 

“Oh yes; pray do,” replied Mildred, with a smile; yielding, 
in spite of herself, to Lady Catherine’s warmth and fascination of 
manner. 

“Well, remember you must do the same, and call me Catherine. 
Now, tell me, Mildred, what you think of Mrs. St. Priest ? ” 

“She seems a good, kind little body; harmless, and perhaps 
rather affected. Upon the whole, I think my impression is favor- 
able,” rejoined Mildred, carelessly. 

“ Really ! I suppose, then, I must be prejudiced,” said Lady 
Catherine, hastily. 

“ Do you know anything against her? ” 

“ Oh, nothing; my complaint is made up of a variety of small 
delinquencies. Indeed, I should have some difficulty in reducing 
my charge into a tangible shape ; yet, I strongly advise you, dear 
Mildred, to content yourself with paying back her civil speeches 
by civil speeches, and nothing more,” replied Lady Catherine, 
laughing. 

In another moment or two Lord Alresford reentered the room ; 
and nothing more was said about Mrs. St. Priest. Lady Alresford 
then resumed her walking attire, and the trio set off on a long 
stroll through the grounds. Lady Catherine seemed perfectly at 
home, and flitted like a bird from one spot to another, giving a 


160 


PIQUE. 


loose rein to her admiration in words of glowing eloquence when 
pleased, or as unsparingly censuring when actuated by the con 
trary feeling. Her demeanor towards Lady Alresford was so 
gentle, and withal plainly, yet so delicately, evinced her desire to 
obtain her friendship and love, that, but for the fell suspicion 
which rankled in Mildred’s mind, that her guest was the sole 
impediment which severed from her her husband’s affection, she 
must have succumbed to the fascination of Lady Catherine’s man- 
ner. As she watched the glow of interest which kindled her 
beautiful features while listening to Lord Alresford’s animated 
conversation, Mildred was struck at times by the deep, sudden 
gloom that all at once flitted across her face. However, Lady 
Catherine soon rallied again from this momentary abstraction, and 
laughed and talked, until the evening shadows warned her it was 
time to think of retracing her route to Wardour Court. 

“You will be sure to come and pay me a visit, Mildred, in a 
day or two. I cannot express Mrs. Otway’s chagrin at not accom- 
panying me hither to-day ; but she was suddenly assailed with an 
old-fashioned notion, that it was not becoming for so many to 
intrude just at present on your privacy,” said the Lady Catherine, 
as she proceeded to her carriage. 

Mildred stood at the window and watched her depart. She saw 
the Earl gather up the reins and place them carefully in her hand. 
Suddenly he leant forwards and addressed her earnestly for a 
second or two. Lady Catherine, with a smile, then raised her 
dark, liquid eyes to the window where she stood, and hastily re- 
sponded. This little friendly conference was not lost on Mildred, 
for her eyes were riveted on the group ; she forgot the boudoir, 
and the many instances of her husband’s attention and anxiety to 
forestall her wishes in all things; for her suspicions were now 
more than confirmed, and her heart was hardened. 


CHAPTER XY. 

During the next few days, Lady Alresford observed with keen, 
jealous vigilance every action, and weighed each word which fell 
from her husband’s lips. She felt dissatisfied and ashamed at the 
little control she was enabled to exercise over herself ; yet all her 
past distrust and suspicion which Helen Campbell had so vigor- 


PIQUE. 


1G1 


ously combated, and which Lord Alresford’s seclusion and entire 
apparent devotion to herself during the past few weeks lulled, now 
returned in full force. Unlike her former studious avoidance of 
Lady Catherine’s name, she now concentrated her utmost ingenuity 
to make her perpetually the theme, direct or indirect, of her con- 
versations with the Earl ; not that she boldly sought explanation 
of those passages of her history which bore upon her close intimacy 
with him ; but, after provoking casual remarks, generally of a 
laudatory nature, she treasured them in her memorj r , and in her 
solitary hours, her perverse fancy embellished and connected these 
fragments by an embroidery of her own coloring ; till, at length, 
she became thoroughly imbued with, and convinced of, the truth 
and reality of her imaginary fears. That whisper, that eloquent 
glance spoke volumes, — and, although as yet she could almost 
number the minutes she had spent in the Lady Catherine’s society, 
even in this short interval she had herself felt too keenly the 
fascinations of her person and manner, not to tremble at the sway 
these powerful attractions would exercise over any man who had 
once succumbed beneath them. Carefully, most carefully, did 
Mildred conceal from her husband the doubts which rankled in 
her mind ; but, like the effect of some terrible slow poison on the 
body, they gradually produced a moral atrophy, and soon all her 
future hopes and joys faded under its withering influence. 

As for Lord Alrcsford, he seemed perfectly unconscious of the 
conflict in her mind, — as unconscious as it was her studied aim 
and desire he should be. Invariably kind and solicitous to please 
her in all things, she knew and felt he was deeply pained by her 
reserve. Once only since their marriage had he mentioned Colonel 
Sutherland’s name, and then at a season most untoward ; it was 
on the evening after Lady Catherine’s visit, whilst poor Mildred’s 
heart burned resentfully at her supposed influence. The Earl 
suddenly asked some question relative to her encouragement of 
Colonel Sutherland’s addresses. Thrown off her guard by the 
unexpectedness of the query, she felt her cheek flush ; and her 
reply was cold, confused, and haughty. Lord Alresford looked 
surprised ; but immediately dropped the subject. She turned 
quickly towards him, for her heart smote her, and testified it was 
her duty to remove the false impression her manner created ; but 
again irresolution proved her evil genius ; for the Earl, after wait- 
ing some time in evident expectation that she would explain or 
modify her words, quitted the room; and when they met again 
her courage failed to broach the unpleasant topic. 

It was naw one of Mildred’s most constant and ever-recurring 
14 * 


162 


riQUE. 


regrets, that Wardour Court was situated at so easy a distance 
from Araesbury. She dreaded a frequent repetition of Lady 
Catherine’s visits ; for, imbued with her jealous misgivings, she 
felt the chance of winning her husband’s affection would be in- 
creased tenfold, could she by any possibility remove him from the 
dangerous sphere of his ward’s influence. How this was to be 
accomplished remained for many days the subject of her profound 
meditation. Lord Alresford, on his marriage, resigned his diplo- 
matic post abroad ; and she had heard him express a decided 
intention of spending the next two years at home, as his long 
previous absence on the continent rendered a residence on his 
estates desirable. Had Mildred sought the right clue, how easily 
would her doubts and bewildering projects have been resolved ! 
As it was, during the following fortnight her mind had less leisure 
to brood over her present and future designs ; as most of the prin- 
cipal neighboring families called at Amesbury, aDd amongst them 
came Lady Normanton. 

Next to seeing the Lady Catherine, Mildred’s curiosity and 
interest were most strongly excited by her anticipated introduction 
to Mtfude Conway’s family. Yielding to her vivid imagination, 
she had endowed the latter with such a profusion of personal and 
intellectual graces, that a positive feeling of chagrin came across 
her as the doer opened, and she heard the young lady who accom- 
panied Lady Normanton, and who entered the room with a deport- 
ment so scornful and unwinning, announced as Miss Conway. 
Wile, indeed, must have been Colonel Sutherland’s choice from 
that beauty he had so often pointedly expatiated to her upon, — 
that soft, melting grace, combined with symmetry of feature, 
indispensable to his ideal of female loveliness, — if the regular, 
though harshly-chiselled features, the high color, and bright, glit- 
tering eyes of the face before her had had power to win his heart. 
When, however. Lady Normanton introduced her companion as her 
second daughter, Mildred returned Miss Isabella Conway’s greet- 
ing and forcible indications of her own importance, with more 
suavity than she would otherwise have vouchsafed ; so glad was 
she to find her fears groundless; feeling that, had this been 
Colonel Sutherland’s betrothed, to have supplanted her in hia 
heart would have been a very questionable triumph ; besides aim- 
ing a fatal blow at his discriminating powers, on which her own 
self-complacency had so long securely reposed. 

Moreton Place, the mansion Lady Normanton inhabited, waa 
situated about four miles from Amesbury ; and here she had Pved 
with her two daughters ever since her husband’s death, which 


riQUE. 


1G3 


happened soon after his accession to the title. Fortunately, how- 
ever, for her son, his education was rendered totally independent 
of her control by his father’s will ; though Lady Normanton re- 
sented. this with the pertinacious littleness of a weak, passionate 
woman ; and, recklessly indifferent to her son’s future welfare, for 
years her greatest delight was to impede his guardian’s designs by 
as many vexatious obstacles as she possibly could devise. By 
weak indulgence and injudicious flattery, she next strove to gain 
ascendency over his miud ; but even as a boy, Lord Normanton’s 
high, manly spirit rebelled at the inequalities of his mother’s 
temper. Her capricious tyranny at times exasperated him ; while 
her foolish compliance and inconsistency on other occasions weak- 
ened, and at length finally destroyed, his respect for her character 
and judgment. In his sister Maude — his exact counterpart in 
feature and mind — Lord Normanton fortunately found a congenial 
friend and companion. Into her ear he poured all his boyish griefs 
and perplexities, and in their juvenile days it was beautiful to 
witness their attachment, and the touching devotion of her man- 
ner, as she turned her bright blue eyes, beaming with love and 
pride, upon him. As time stole on, however, another was admitted 
into this friendly league, and the Lady Catherine Neville became 
the almost inseparable companion of the brother and sister. The 
secluded life she had led from infancy, and the solitude and silence 
of YVardour, had subdued much of her youthful spirit; and at 
this period Lady Catherine, though a child in years, had acquired, 
by early habits of self-commune, a knowledge and power of reason- 
ing wonderful for her age. As Lord Normanton gazed in he! 
dark, flashiqg eyes, and heard the earnest energy with which she 
poured forth, and embodied in language almost poetical, some of 
the strange musings and aspirings of her lonely hours, his boyish 
fancy was fired, and he longed to share her pursuits and guide 
her enthusiastic spirit in its researches. Her passionate love for 
the good and beautiful, and the deep romance which imbued her 
mind, accorded with his own. Happy in each other’s society, they 
enjoyed their long, solitary rambles amid the deep woods and sunny 
dells of Wardour ; until the increasing infirmities of Lord Willing- 
ham rendered change of climate indispensable, and Lady Catherine 
accompanied her father to Italy. 

Soon after this event, Lord Normanton quitted Harrow, and after 
reading for a couple of years with a private tutor, went to college, 
where he passed a most brilliant career ; though, in the midst of 
all his honors, the vision of the enthusiastic girl who first kindled 
and roused his ambition was indelibly impressed on his mind 


1G4 


PIQUE. 


There was one fault, deeply rooted in Lord Norraanton’s charactor, 
which her pure influence had failed to exorcise ; and this was a 
distrust of the motives of those amongst whom he lived. From 
his very earliest childhood, a caress from his mother had been a 
bribe to lure him to some compliance with her wishes, which she 
had not strength of character to enforce ; in latter years the same 
artifice — rendered more effectual, as she imagined, by a little flat- 
tery — was synonymous with something she desired to obtain, or 
some promise she wished to extort As he entered more into the 
world, his strong sense of justice revolted, when, from his rank 
and riches, he found himself the object of obsequious attention ; 
while others, his equals in everything else save these, were cast 
comparatively into the background ; in short, his vanity was piqued 
to achieve some more legitimate triumphs, and an ardent longing 
arose to be indebted to himself and not to his name, for the con- 
sideration he enjoyed. 

As soon as he attained his majority, Lord Normanton, to fre« 
himself at once from his mother’s underhand methods, doubled her 
jointure. He had also another opportunity for early signalizing 
his generosity. His cousin, llobert Conway, a wild, worthless 
young man, had, by a life of reckless dissipation, reduced himself 
to the last straits, and was threatened with expulsion from college. 
After having half ruined his father, a man of very moderate for- 
tune. Mr. Conway, without a sou in his pocket, or the semblance 
of an excuse on his lips, threw himself upon his cousin’s gener- 
osity as a last resort. Lord Normanton paid his debts. A few 
months after the latter left college, Mr. Conway again involved 
himself in gambling debts to a large amount ; but this time the 
finale was more tragic. Totally devoid of principle, and goaded 
by the desperation of his circumstances, he committed some exten- 
sive forgeries on an eminent banking firm. The fraud was promptly 
detected, and his arrest became inevitable. Again, in a letter of 
agonizing entreaty, he implored his cousin’s aid and intercession. 
Lord Normanton instantly repaired to London, but after several 
interviews with his unhappy relative, and one with the principals 
of the banking-house, finding his good offices of no avail, he ab- 
juptly quitted England, for a long-projected tour on the continent, 
without returning to Moreton ; much to his mother’s anger and 
dissatisfaction, who protested she never could divine the motive 
of this extraordinary whim. 

A few days after Lady Normanton’s call, Mildred and her hus- 
band drove to Wardour Court. Much to her surprise, Lord Alres- 
ford expressed no impatience for her speedy discharge of this act 


riQUE. 


1G5 


of courtesy cowards Lady Catherine, and it was she who proposed 
the visit. A strange, restless anxiety possessed her spirit to watch 
once more their demeanor in each other’s society ; and, fertile in 
the art of self-tormenting, she imagined this indifference on the 
part of Lord Alrcsford, bespoke a security in Lady Catherine’s 
regard which no apparent omissions of courtesy or interest could 
shake. Narrowly did Mildred watch the expression of bis face, as 
she made the proposal to drive to Wardour; but not even a pass- 
ing emotion of any kind flitted across it, as the words fell from 
her lips. 

The route from Amesbury to Wardour Court lay through a most 
lovely country, and as she sat by his side, insensibly the serious- 
ness faded from her brow, and forgetting for the moment her fan- 
cied wrongs, she abandoned herself to that sprightly vivacity of 
tone and manner always so captivating when united to a cultivated 
well-stored mind. The beautiful scenery also kindled her enthu- 
siasm ; for as yet, with the exception of one visit to Avington, and 
an occasional walk through the little village of Amesbury, her 
drives and promenades had been circumscribed to the limits of the 
park. The foliage still retained that vivid green and freshness, as 
yet unsullied by dust or shrivelled by the ardent sun, which ren- 
ders the month of June so lovely. Now their route lay over the 
brow of some bold hill, sloping precipitously to the wooded valley 
on their right, through which the beautiful river threaded, glisten- 
ing in the sun like a broad silver band ; while the towering peaks 
of the rocky hills abruptly arising from its margin, bounded the 
horizon, softened and mellowed in a cloud of purple and golden 
vapor. At other times the road ascended abruptly into a narrow 
gorge, hemmed in by rough, jutting rocks ; the tall summits of 
many of which were crowned with dark pine plantations, contrast- 
ing with the bright verdure of the vegetation which wreathed the 
hill-sides, and clustered around the margin of the deep hollows. 
Below, thickets of gorse and broom, interspersed by rocky ledges, 
covered with wild thyme and feathery- looking mosses, were scat* 
tered over the broad band of greensward which skirted the carriage 
road on either side. Mildred casta look of regret on the wild 
luxuriance she was leaving behind, as the carriage passed the lodge 
gates of Wardour, and proceeded rapidly up the stately trim 
avenue leading to the mansion. 

Nothing could exceed the warmth and cordiality of Lady Cath- 
erine’s greeting, and still more than ever was Mildred struck with 
the winning grace of her manner, and the intellectual beauty of 
her face. She was dressed in deep mourning, unrelieved stve by 


166 


PIQUE. 


the snowy whiteness of her collar and cuffs ; and her hair was 
snuothly braided on her temples, and twisted into a heavy knot 
behind. Her friend, Mrs. Otway, sat by her on the sofa, knitting ; 
and there was something so primitive and sweet in the expression of 
the old lady’s countenance, that Mildred found her eyes irresistibly 
attracted towards her. Her features were pale and thin, and her 
nose rather long and aquiline ; but in the expression of the faded, 
though regularly-cut features, there was that unmistakable air of 
high breeding which seldom fails to command interest, and a simple 
benevolence in her smile that at once won the heart. Her forehead 
was high and slightly furrowed, and small flat curls, lightly sprin- 
kled with powder, clustered round her face. She wore a close cap 
of the whitest, finest lace ; and a full frill, or ruff, of the same 
delicate Mechlin, encircled her neck, displaying its elaborate pat- 
tern to the greatest advantage over her black silk dress A gold 
chatelaine of exquisite workmanship hung from her waist, with its 
multitude of fanciful appendages, and attached on the other side 
was an old-fashioned contrivance — a kind of steel rest for the 
knitting-pin, when the hand wearied of grasping the mass of work 
depending from it; an alleviation Mrs. Otway’s notable industry 
amply deserved. 

After some conversation, Lady Catherine, with the most obliging 
desire to entertain her guest, led Mildred through the flower gar- 
den, and displayed her pictures, and a collection of vases and 
other articles made during her sojourn abroad. On a stand near 
one of the windows of the largest room, in which the pictures 
hung, was a large portfolio filled with various sketches and draw- 
ings; and while Lady Catherine was discussing the merits of a 
painting with Lord Alresford with more interest than Mildred 
approved, the latter, with her old feelings of resentment kindled 
again strolled towards it, and listlessly commenced turning over 
its contents, though her eyes were riveted upon her companions. 
Many allusions to things and personages abroad intermingled in 
their discussion, and Lord Alreslord talked with a lively ease and 
Interest in the subject, which tended not a little to increase her 
irritable sensations. 

Presently Mrs. Otway approached, and, in her simple language, 
began to descant on some of the scenes Lady Catherine had so ably 
illustrated ; and though Mildred was compelled to lend an outward 
attention, she still keenly observed the Earl’s deportment. Aftei 
a time, Lady Catherine retreated into the recess of one of the 
windows on a level with that against which she stood, and for the 
next ten minutes conversed with the Earl in more subdued accents , 


PIQUE. 


167 


and then Lad^i Alresford distinctly heard the rustle of paper, a? 
of the folding >r unfolding of a letter. She fancied also that the 
beautiful bloom was deepened on Lady Catherine’s check, when 
she joined her again ; and, acting with her usual quick impulse, 
Mildred turned hastily away to address Mrs. Otway, who held a 
drawing, which she was just about to display. With a low, hurried 
exclamation of surprise, however, Lady Catherine hastily snatched 
it from the old lady’s hand, and buried it beneath a pile of draw- 
ings already exhibited, while a deep blush suffused her checks 
and brow, as she timidly glanced towards Lord Alresford. Mrs 
Otway, however, retained the drawing long enough for Mildred to 
perceive, through the transparent paper which covered it, that it 
was a portrait — the portrait, moreover, of a gentleman ; and she 
was awaiting its full display with no little interest and anxiety. 
The evident confusion and sudden silence of Lady Catherine, who 
for many minutes after, did not recover her vivacity, convinced 
Mildred she was more than justified iu harboring her most cruel 
and mortifying suspicion; and soon after, with a manner con- 
strained and formal, she took her leave, little edified or reassured 
by her visit to Wardour Court. 

If Mildred before thought absence from the range of Lady 
Catherine’s attractions desirable, now, as may be supposed, most 
doubly imperative and necessary did it appear to her. But the 
difficulty was, how could she, a bride of a month, deliberately pro- 
pose a change of residence ; with its consequent admission that she 
was weary of her tete-a-tete with her husband — weary of the 
beautiful home he had taken such pains to adorn for her reception ? 
Besides, where could she ask him to take her ? Chance, however, 
favored her design, and very speedily afforded her the opportunity 
she panted for. She happened the following morning to descend 
a few minutes earlier than usual. On a small side table in the 
break fast- room, lay the letters just arrived from Avington, includ- 
ing not only her own, but Lord Alresford’s correspondence. As 
her eye ran over the addresses of the letters, she desciied one 
directed to her husband, with the premier’s autograph in its left- 
hand coi ner. In a moment the idea flashed through her mind 
that this letter might aid her design; for could the Earl be pre- 
vailed upon to accept or solicit aught from government, which 
would require his immediate presence in London, her desire would 
be effectually and skilfully accomplished ; and she at once deter- 
mined that no insinuations or effort on her part, to bring about 
this much wished-for result, should be wanting. 

She stood at the window musing how to commence operations. 


8 


riQUE. 


when Lord Alresford entered the room. After talking to her foi 
a few minutes, he turned to the table, and taking up the identical 
letter she wished him to do, broke the seal. Impatiently, she 
awaited for some indication of its contents, and her beautiful eyes 
rested upon him with that interest her anxiety now prompted, 
but which pride on other occasions so frequently repelled. 

“ This letter is from Lord Woodburn, requesting my presence in 
chc House, on Wednesday night, to support his bill,” said Lord 
Alresford, surprised at the sudden interest she evinced in his cor- 
respondence, and wondering, perhaps, what motive could have 
kindled it. - 

“ You intend, of course, to comply with his lordship's request ? ” 
replied she, promptly, and inquiringly, while the color suffused her 
cheeks. 

“ No ; it will not be convenient for me to go to town next week. 
Besides, Mildred, I would not leave you ; especially as this bill is 
not very important, and is sure to pass,” replied the Earl, deci- 
sively. 

Mildred was silent for some minutes ; she fixed her eyes steadily 
on the ground Lord Alresford continued opening his letters. 

“ Do not refuse Lord Woodburn’s request only on my account, 
for I should like exceedingly to accompany you to town. The sea- 
son is very brilliant still, and I miss my usual sojourn there at 
this period more than I can express,” said she, at length rapidly ; 
though her eyes were still bent on the carpet. 

“ l am sorry for it, Mildred. 1 have made arrangements to 
spend the remainder of the year here, and 1 do not feel disposed 
to alter my determination,” replied Lord Alresford, coldly, continu- 
ing to peruse the letter in his hand. 

Her color came and went quick and fast. She, the idolized, — 
the indulged one, to be refused in this unequivocal cavalier style ! 
yet, in her resentment, she cast not a thought on the bitter indiffer- 
ence her own words implied. Urged by her intense anxiety to 
win his love, — only to be obtained as she imagined, far from all 
comparison with the beautiful, the dreaded Lady Catherine — sha 
resolved to hazard another trial of her power. 

“ Lord Alresford, I desire very much to visit London. Will 
you deny my first request ? ” said she, haughtily, though with 
difficulty retaining her self-possession. 

Lord Alresford laid down his letter. She was spell-bound, 
under that strange fascination and species of awe he always 
exercised over her spirits. 

“ Mildred,” said he, firmly, “ 1 will not yield to your caprice. 


l’LQUE. 


169 


You shall have time for reflection ; nor will I expose you, in your 
present frame of mind, to the temptations which the gratification 
of your wish would entail. Before, your safeguards against every 
dangerous allurement were the love and confidence you reposed in 
your parents; now , — but I will leave you to draw the parallel; 
only, one day you may, perhaps, thank me for my peremptory 
denial of your request. 

rs Then your refusal proceeds alone from generous concern for 
my welfare, and you have no personal reasons for desiring to remain 
at Araesbury, as you stated before ? ” retorted Mildred, with a 
sarcastic bitterness she could not repress, while her beautiful face 
crimsoned. 

“ Lady Alresford, I should imagine, would have been the last 
to need explanation of the personal motives likedy to induce me to 
consider Araesbury our most desirable residence at present.’* 
rejoined the Earl, calmly quitting the room. 

But Mildred, in the depth of her pique and resentment, attrib- 
uted her husband’s firm resolution alone to the strength of his 
liaison with the Lady Catherine. 

In a few minutes Lord Alresford returned, with no vestige of 
their past debate visible in his face and manner. During the fol- 
lowing half-hour he conversed as if nothing had occurred to ruffle 
their good understanding ; though she fancied he lingered longer 
by her side than it was his wont to do. Mildred, however, made 
no advance, though involuntarily she sighed as the door at length 
closed for the morning upon her husband, and she was left again 
to her lonely cogitations. 

/ 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Let ns now take a peep at others over their breakfast-table. 
\Ye confess a predilection for this early meal, especially in sum- 
mer, when Nature also puts on her most tempting aspect, and all 
things without look fresh and luxuriant. A fair face and kindly 
disposition then beam upon us with redoubled lustre, when the 
mind, refreshed by sleep, diffuses a calm serenity over every speak- 
ing feature ; while on the contrary those faces habitually puckered 
with peevish fretfulness assume at the morning meal additional 
repulsiveness ; as if the repose ordained to renovate the faculties 
15 


170 


PIQUE. 


of both body and mind, served in such unlucky individuals but to 
quicken the venom which debars them the enjoyment of much that 
is pleasant and delightful in this beautiful world of ours. 

At the break fast- table, then, in a small comfortably, rather 
than richly furnished apartment, at Moreton Place, was a young 
lady. Before her stood the hissing tea-urn ; and when we first 
observe her, her head is slightly inclined, watching the descent of 
the boiling stream on the fragrant leaves in the teapot ; but 
presently she raises her eyes and looks rather anxiously at the 
door, as she hears footsteps in the hall without. Her face is not 
regularly handsome, but still on the noble brow, relieved by shin- 
ing bands of silky hair, in the varying shadows trembling in her 
deep blue eyes, in the smile which slightly elevates the corners of 
her small, well cut mouth, there was something infinitely cap- 
tivating. Miss Conway, as she stood there with her dazzling 
complexion, pure as her white morning robe, with good humor 
dimpling her soft cheek, was a living exemplification of truth. 
Near her, in an arm-chair, sat her mother. Lady Normanton’s 
figure was slight and gracefully formed, though ill health, rather 
than age, had robbed it of its fulness. Her face still retained 
vestiges of great former beauty, though now the once blooming 
cheek was hollow and wan, and a fretful frown of discontent 
furrowed the brow and curled the lip. She reclined back in her 
chair, enveloped in a large shawl, although summer still spread its 
most tempting sky, and her eyes followed with restless peevishness 
the graceful movements of her daughter. 

“ I really wish, Maude, you would attend to my request, and 
desire Harris to bake the rolls more. I may just as well speak to 
my poodle as ask you to do anything ; yet you know Dr. Batswing 
said dough in this crude state was highly indigestible,- and likely 
to bring on another attack of dyspepsia,” said Lady Normanton, 
fretfully tossing the uppermost crust from a plate of hot, buttered 
rolls before her. 

“ I did lecture her for above half an hour yesterday, dear 
mamma, I assure you ; and she promised to attend better this 
morning. Look, I really believe, if you try this bit you will fml 
it well baked,” replied Maude, good-naturedly, turning over the 
roll to find a piece to suit her mother’s fastidious palate. 

“ Well, just put it down on the plate, Maude. You cannot 
expect me to taste it while you hold it there.” 

Miss Conway obeyed. After slowly separating a minute parti- 
cle from the piece, Lady Normanton suddenly laid down her knife 
and fork. 


PIQUE. 


171 


“ Maude, don’t you see the glare of the sun is enough to sicken 
one? Do put down the Venetian shade! lteally, what can your 
head always be running upon, that you never observe anything?” 

“Do you feel more comfortable now, mamma?” asked Miss 
Conway, placing before her mother a cup of tea, after shutting out 
the bright sunshine from the room. 

“ Yes ; this subdued light is infinitely more grateful,” said 
Lady Normanton, in no very gracious tones, sipping the tea. 
“Good heavens, Maude! you must have emptied the sugar-basin 
into my cup. How very careless! really, I can never get my 
daughters to perform the slightest service for me properly.” 

“ Fortunately, here is another cup just ready ; perhaps you will 
like it better,” replied Maude, in tones unmoved, quietly substi- 
tuting one cup for the other before her querulous ladyship could 
interpose. 

“Now ring the bell, Maude, and inquire whether Harris has 
got an egg for my breakfast.” 

The bell was rung; and, after due inquiry, as it was found the 
twelve fowls, with strange perversity, refused to produce an egg 
between them for her ladyships breakfast, Lady Normanton 
resumed her repast in no very amiable mood, and Maude, after 
plying her mother’s plate with a variety of delicacies, arranging her 
cushions, and feeding her poodle, at length sat down, and ventured 
to commence her own breakfast. 

Lady Normanton continued to eat in silence for some minutes. 

“ I wonder when your sister will please to make her appearance. 
"When I was young such indolence was not tolerated. Did you 
go into her room the last thing before you came down stairs, 
Maude?” 

“ Yes, mamma. I dare say Isabella is wearied with her fatigu- 
ing expedition yesterday, and will be down presently,” said 
Maude, in her most conciliating toues. 

“Her fatigues ! Do you mean her drive yesterday to Ncthercote 
with your aunt elect — little, silly Mrs. St. Priest?” 

Maude’s check flushed ; even her gentle spirit felt chafed at her 
mother’s wanton irritability. At this moment, however, Lady 
Normanton’s thoughts received a fresh diversion by the abrupt 
entrance of her daughter. The young lady advanced into the 
room with a very decided manner and air ; her regular features 
breathing defiance at any one presuming to call her in question as 
to the hour it was her sovereign pleasure to partake of her morning 
meal. Lady Normanton instantly opened a volley of small shot ; 
which, however, Miss Isabella chose to treat with most supreme 


172 


PIQUE. 


indifference; and after nonchalantly glancing at the breakfast- 
table, she coolly walked to the bell, rang it, and then stood 
smoothing her hair before the mirror. 

“ What did you ring the bell for, Isabella? ” asked Lady Nor- 
manton, in no very gentle tones, as Hughes the butler answered 
the peremptory summons. 

“Take the urn out and refill it with boiling water, and bring 
some eggs, muffin, and hot roll ! ” said the impracticable Isabella, 
without vouchsafing a glance at her mother. “ I think you might 
have kept a little hot tea for me, at any rate, Maude ; but I know 
people in love are the most forgetful creatures in the world. Good 
heavens! pray pull up that blind — the room looks like some 
dismal den ! ” exclaimed she, composedly seating herself. 

“ I dare say you think this nonchalant deportment vastly becom- 
ing to you, Miss Isabella Conway ; but let me inform you, once 
for all, that if you cannot rise in time to breakfast with your sister 
and myself, you will please to content yourself with what you find 
on the tabic ; for I will not have Harris disturbed,” rejoined Lady 
Norman ton, fretfully. 

“I am exceedingly sorry to disturb Harris’s cogitations. I 
assure your ladyship, I will do all in iny power to spare her pre- 
cious time,” retorted Isabella, scornfully. “Well, Maude, what 
is the matter? You look as grave and sorrowful as you did before 
Edward Sutherland’s last visit.” 

Miss Conway made no reply, and, to conceal the bright drops 
which sprang to her eyes at this unfeeling taunt, bent her small 
head still lower over her needle ; for on her sister’s appearance 
she had retreated from the breakfast-table, and left her to the 
undisturbed enjoyment of the morning’s bickering. 

“ I wonder when Normanton will think it worth while to trouble 
his head about us? How long is it since we heard from him, 
Isabella?” at length said Lady Normanton, after a long pause in 
the dialogue ; during which Isabella ate, and her mother fondled 
her poodle, yawned, and had frequent recourse to the bottle of 
pungent salts by her side. 

“ You had better ask Maude. Normanton thinks her the only 
person worth writing to amongst us,” replied Isabella, carelessly 
tossing the wing of a chicken to the dog ; who, thereupon, 
immediately leaped from Lady Normanton’s lap, with a sudden 
eagerness which caused her to start violently. 

“When did you hear last from your brother, Maude?” 
demanded Lady Normanton, coloring, and darting a furious dance 
at her sjeond daughter. 


riQUE. 


173 


“I think it was about three weeks ago, mamma. Normanton 
was then on the point of leaving Naples for Florence.” 

“ I wish he would be on the point of leaving anywhere for 
England. A young man of his fortune and consequence ought to 
be thinking of settling in life, and taking a station, instead of 
wandering indolently on the continent. That Robert Conway had 
some hand in driving him abroad ; though I never could penetrate 
the mystery; for Normunton’s stupid closeness of disposition i3 
perfectly odious. There must be some attraction abroad ; and I 
quite expect he will bring home some ballet girl, or street beggar, 
as his wife.” 

“Oh, mamma!” exclaimed Miss Conway, involuntarily lifting 
her soft eyes from her work. 

“ Nothing more likely, I should say; just to demonstrate his 
sublime indifference to those two things the world generally reck- 
ons in its catalogue of objects to be desired — wealth and position. 
You know Normanton was always infected with the absurd notion 
that every girl he saw wished to marry him for his money and 
rank,” rejoined Isabella. 

“ Here is my son throwing away all his advantages, and my 
daughters, though they have been out these four years, remain 
unmarried ; and are likely, for aught I know, to continue so. 
Even if they do manage to attract lovers, they seem wofully igno- 
rant of the art of retaining them,” grumbled Lady Normanton, 
casting a reproachful glance at Maude. 

“Pray, mamma, will you be good enough to inform us what 
advantages Normanton throws away ; for it appears to me he 
carefully treasures them all! ” said Isabella, snceringly. 

“ I mean, by his preposterous absurdity and romantic nonsense 
about being married, for himself he is throwing away the chance 
of a match with his old friend and playmate, Lady Catherine 
Neville ; she would make a most suitable wife for him. But all 
my children are resolved to* fly in my face, I plainly perceive. 
However, we shall see. Mr. Egremont Turville is not such a 
fastidious simpleton as Normanton, and knows how to make court 
to the heiress. I told your brother the county was ringing with 
the news of Mr. Turville’s assiduities in that quarter, last week 
when I wrote to him, so perhaps we may see him sooner than we 
anticipate.” 

“ Then, mamma, all I say is, you added another link to a chain 
of scandalous gossip already long enough. I have closely watekpd 
Mr. Turville and Lady Catherine, and I feel assured there ia 
nothing between them save cousinly regard.’ 

15 * 


174 


PIQUE. 


44 Just the very thing to build upon, Isabella; in spite of your 
vehement assertions. Throw a fascinating man and a handsome 
young woman together constantly, without let or hindrance, with 
all restraints dissipated by cousinly affinity, and a match is sure 
to be the result ; so you need not hope, my dear, to make a con- 
qiiest of the lord of Nethercote ! ” said Lady Normanton, carelessly 
twisting round the rings on her thin fingers. 

“ Your ladyship need be under no alarm. Mr. Egremont Tur* 
ville, with twice his wealth, would scarce make me forget who I 
am ! ” rejoined Miss Isabella Conway, haughtily ; and her small 
mouth curled with angry disdain 

“ I should trust so, indeed, Isabella. Maude, you who half 
live at W ardour Court, what do you say to Mr. Turvillc’s chances 
with the heiress ? ” 

“Indeed, mamma, I have had few opportunities of judging.” 
replied she, quietly; for, one among Isabella’s amiable qualities 
was this — that after bantering poor Maude until she extracted 
something like an opinion or admission, the next time she saw 
Lady Catherine she would triumphantly descant upon the fact so 
elicited, on her sister’s authority. 

“Oh, Maude only knows what she likes to tell. It is no use 
to ask her anything,” exclaimed Isabella, bitterly. 

“ The best thing you could do, Maude, would be to use your 
influence with your friend to induce her to suspend her choice 
until after your brother’s return home. He would surely not 
suspect his old playmate of wishing to entrap him ! ” 

“On my life, he would! Normanton’ s absurd susceptibility 
would lead him into any folly.” 

“ Upon my word, your brother is obliged to you, Miss Isabella. 
Now, if my son would but be reasonable, and return home and 
marry Lady Catherine, I need never leave this place for that odious 
old house at Bowmore. Give me that footstool, Maude, and just 
raise the pillow behind me. Those flowers make me quite ill ; do, 
pray, put them outside in the hall,” said Lady Normanton, point- 
ing to a vase filled with jessamine and honeysuckle on a side table. 
“ Ah, girls ! ” continued she, with a sigh, “ had your father lived, 
your present destiny would have been very different. Not but 
what Normanton has behaved uncommonly well in doubling my 
paltry jointure of two thousand a year, on the day he came of age ; 
but my lot has been peculiarly unlucky, and I have had but little 
enjoyment of the consequence and wealth which a marriage with 

your father at first seemed to promise ” 

“ Then, mamma, you should no! blame us; for, if you have had 


PIQUE. 


175 


disadvantages to contend with, so have we. Maude and I have 
never even tasted the privileges of our station.” 

Lady Norman ton continued, without heeding her daughter’s 
interruption : — 

“ Before your father came to the title, I had the plague of 
bringing you three into the world, and thereby ruined my health 
forever. Your father only survived his accession to the family 
honors one year ; and words are powerless to describe what I then 
went through with the vile tribe of lawyers, trustees, and guar- 
dians. Witham was let; arrangements were made for my son’s 
education, in spite of everything I could say — and now, after all 
L have suffered, Normanton nearly ruins himself with paying other 
people’s debts, and takes himself off in this cavalier style, instead 
of living at home and reinstating his mother and sisters in the 
family mansion. He really seems to care for none of us but 
Maude.” 

“ As far as I am concerned, I should beg to decline joining the 
family circle at Witham. Normanton is far too dictatorial for 
me,” said Isabella, sarcastically. 

“Beally, Isabella, your flights and airs are perfectly ludicrous; 
and could your brother hear you, he certainly would not consider 
himself a loser by your absence. Maude, ring the bell for my 
drops. When Lady Normanton had swallowed the mixture, imme- 
diately presented by her maid, she continued, “ By-the-bye, Maude, 
I understand you were at W' ardour when Lord and Lady Alresford 
paid their second visit there. Now, I only heard this by a side- 
wind. I never in my life met with so close and disingenuous a 
character as yours ! ” 

“ I did not think you particularly cared for an enumeration of 
Lady Catherine’s visitors, mamma, especially in this case; as, 
judging from your manner, I thought Lady Alresford did not 
produce a favorable impression on either you or Isabella, when you 
called at Amesbury.” 

“ I cannot tell how you venture to set yourself up as a compe- 
tent judge of my manners or sentiments either; you must have a 
monstrous opinion of your discriminating faculties ! However, in 
this one instance you are right ; for I certainly never felt more 
disappointed in anybody in my life than with Lady Alresford. I 
thought her frigid to a degree positively repulsive. Lord Alres- 
ford also thinks no small things of himself! But I want to know, 
Maude, how you liked her? ” asked Lady Normanton, peevishly. 

“ If you insist upon my opinion, mamma, I hope you will not 
be offended if I speak it truly. I was very much fascinated by 


176 


PIQUE. 


Lady Alresford’s manners aud appearance. I think 1 never saw 
a more beautiful face. There was something so kind and gentle 
in the tone of her voice, too. When you meet her again, I feel 
sure you will admire her,” replied Maude. 

“ By-the-bye, Maude — I think I did not tell you Mrs. St. 
Priest intimated yesterday, during our drive, that this immaculate 
Lady Alrcsford is an old flame of Edward Sutherland’s. By what 
l can understand from her, there seems to have been a regular 
flirtation between them when he was stationed at Stanmore. Bray, 
did this fact form any portion of his mysterious disclosures, when 
he was closeted with you for full two hours during his last visit? ” 

Miss Conway made no reply ; her heart was too full for words ; 
a slight tremulous motion of the lip alone testified that she heard 
the abrupt interrogatory. 

“Well, Maude,” continued Isabella, “you need not look so 
angry and aggrieved ; forewarned is forearmed, you know — and 
were I you, when Edward Sutherland comes into this neighborhood 
again, I would not let him go near Amesbury.” 

“Did Mrs. St. Priest say, he was likely soon to visit her 
again ? ” asked Lady Norman ton. 

“ Yes ; she said she expected him in a week or ten days,” 
replied Isabella, pausing, as Hughes presented himself at the 
door. 

• “ Mrs. St. Priest, my lady, has sent over a messenger to know 
whether Miss Conway or Miss Isabella will like to drive with her 
to Nethercote this afternoon.” 

“ Give cur compliments, and say, that either Miss Conway or 
myself will be with Mrs. St. Priest by two o’clock,” replied 
Isabella, promptly. 

“ Good heavens ! what can Mrs. St. Priest be going over to 
Nethercote again for?” ejaculated Lady Normanton, lifting up 
her eyes. 

“To see Mr. Egremont Turville, most probably, mamma,” 
observed Isabella, flippantly. “ I suppose, Maude, as you are an 
affianced young lady, you won’t mind my sharing this privilege 
with her ? ’’ 

“Not in the least, Isabella, as far as the drive and Mr. Egre- 
mont Turville arc concerned ; but, unfortunately, I promised Lady 
Catherine to walk over to Wardour after lunch,” replied Miss 
Conway, hesitatingly ; for she perceived the incipient pout on her 
sister’s rosy lip. 

“ Well, Maude, for once you must let your friend’s convenience 
yield to your mother’s. It is quite impossible that both my 


riyUE. 


177 


daughters can go out and leave me alone ; so if you cannot live a 
dav without visiting Wardour Court, you must take your maid 
and walk there after dinner. Now, if you please, we will go into 
my sitting-room ; and, perhaps, you will write those letters for me 
I spoke to you about yesterday evening.” 

Miss Couway arose, and quietly put aside her work to obey her 
mother’s caprice. Poor girl ! involuntarily a heavy sigh fluttered 
on her lip. 

“ 1 wish you joy of your task, Maude,” said Isabella, mali- 
ciously. as her sister passed the couch, on which she was preparing 
to recline with the last new novel in her hand. “ I shall be back 
again about four. Adieu ! ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Miss Isabella Conway returned home from her drive in a 
humor anything but improved by her tete-a-tete with the languish' 
ing widow ; and, after a dinner prolonged to a most insupportable 
length by the captious caprice of Lady Norman ton, Maude was 
permitted to set off on her long-delayed expedition to Wardour 
Court. 

A feeling of indescribable relief stole over her as she closed the 
small gate admitting from the grounds of Moreton Place into the 
meadows, across which a foot-path led direct to Lady Catherine’s 
abode. She strolled slowly along ; the quiet — the delicious lux^ 
ury of being allowed space and leisure to think, when her heart 
was throbbing with anxiety and dire foreboding — the absence of 
the taunting word which sometimes drove her harassed spirit to 
the verge of desperate defiance of her domestic tyrants, fell so 
soothingly on her mind, that, insensibly, her fair young brow 
unbent, and the quick anxious glance of her clear, blue eye 
melted — shall we say it — into a tear ; for Maude’s lonely medi- 
tations were of past betrayals, of future deep and bitter suffering. 
Her first dream of love had been given to Colonel Sutherland — 
given with the fresh, full ardor of her truthful spirit; for she 
fancied his deeds blameless as his words, and believed that the 
man who spoke and reasoned as did her beloved brother, would 
alike act from the same principles, and make them the foundation 
and test of his daily conduct. Bitterly was she undeceived ; and 


178 


PIQUE. 


to all tlie petty tyranny of her home, was now added the galling, 
humbling sense of being deserted — betrayed ; of having tendered 
the most precious gift in woman’s power to bestow, to meet with 
contempt and ingratitude in return. 

Originally, Colonel Sutherland’s hand and ample fortune were 
destined by Lady Normanton for her daughter Isabella; who, 
having met him at Mrs. St. Priest’s, became violently smitten 
with his easy volubility and flow of spirits; for Colonel Suther- 
land, though possessed of deep, unscrupulous passions, when fully 
aroused, was one of those individuals, who, without one solid 
attainment, and with very shallow intellect, adroitly managed to 
collect a particle from every source ; so that whether the conversa- 
tion soared to the flights of metaphysics, or descended to the most 
exquisite nonsense that ever escaped male or female lips, he 
generally contrived to acquit himself of his share with apparent 
ease. Such was the origin of Colonel Sutherland’s introduction 
to Moreton, an intimacy most unlucky for poor Maude ; for 
divining the drift of Lady Normanton, and speedily perceiving 
that Miss Isabella’s fierce, imperious spirit was impervious to 
harmless flirtation, he turned his attention to her sister. 

Struck by Maude’s gentle, womanly manners, Colonel Suther- 
land soon exchanged his gallant speeches for the language of what 
he then supposed sincere passion ; nor was he undeceived as to 
the hollowness of his professions, until he met the beautiful, and 
brilliant Miss Effingham. Then were poor Maude’s wrongs 
avenged ; for Mildred, with her radiant spirit and ready wit, was 
just the woman to inthral and hold captive the heated fancy of 
such a man as Colonel Sutherland. He loved her deeply, unut- 
terably ; and then only to find her the affianced bride of another, 
— lost to him by her own consent and deed. When the illusion 
of making Mildred his own was dissipated by her approaching 
marriage with Lord Alresford, Miss Conway listened to Colonel 
Sutherland’s confessions of past faithlessness with feelings of sor- 
row indescribable ; she felt smitten to the heart. Even his 
voluntary humiliation she knew to be a tacit acknowledgment of 
her rival’s power. Her trust in him was forever gone ; and 
though she pardoned him, the galling remembrance of his desertion 
she fcl t could never be effaced ; and more in compliance with his 
urgent entreaties than aught else — for he knew too well his power 
over her gentle, yielding nature — she reluctantly consented to 
remain his betrothed. 

Slowly, then, Maude walked along the path, which wound now- 
under green hedges and by mossy banks spangled with wild pink 


PIQUE. 


179 


geranium and delicate starwort ; then, taking a more vlecidcd 
Bweep across the meadow, diverged, at length, into a narrow bridle 
way. This, by a gentle ascent, led to the summit cf the ridge of 
hills which divided the estates of Lord Norman ton from those of 
the Lady Catherine. From this slight elevation, a fine view might 
be obtained of the beautiful wooded valley, in the centre of which 
stood the mansion of Wardour. Groups of noble oaks and syca- 
mores, some of gigantic size, surrounded it on all sides; and 
through the middle of the valley a narrow streamlet flowed, now 
flashing in the rays of the setting sun, like burnished silver, now 
coquetdshly disappearing behind the stately clumps of timber. 

The mansion of Wardour Court was a vdnerable looking pile, 
and dated from the reign of Elizabeth. It was a low. compact 
edifice, of considerable dimensions, built of brick, with facings of 
white stone. Around the roof ran a low parapet of carved stone, 
and in the centre arose a tall clock-tower. The principal entrance 
was by a porch of massive oak elaborately carved, and otherwise 
ornamented with grotesque figures and devices. Over this, the 
hatchment affixed on the decease of Lord Willingham still remained. 
In front of the mansion was a court of greensward, separated from 
the park by a sunk fence and balustrade, decorated with balls, 
stone rosettes, and huge lotus-shaped vases, in which pink hydran- 
geas flourished luxuriantly. Behind the mansion, and parallel on 
either side with the court, were long avenues of firs and cedars, 
imparting a dark, gloomy aspect. 

Lady Catherine bad done her best to lessen the sorabreness of 
her ancient abode, by training a variety of bright looking creepers 
to contrast their ffiowy blossoms with its dark, weather-stained 
walls. At various seasons of the year, brilliant clusters of roses, 
japonica, passior dowers, and other beautiful plants bloomed around 
her windows aud twined over the porch ; and beyond, flights of 
stone steps c^viducted, from terrace to terrace, into gardens, upon 
which she had lavished all the skill and experience acquired in 
th 3 sunny clime from whence she had just returned. 

Pausing a few minutes for a rapid survey of the lovely landscape 
before her, Maude hurried forwards ; for already the rose-tinted 
clouds on the horizon were beginning to lose their vivid hues, aa 
the shades of evening stealthily crept over. Passing through the 
court, and under the curious old arch which led to the back of the 
mansion, she soon found herself on the terrace, upon which most 
of the principal apartments opened. Mrs. Otway was the only 
occupant of Lady Catherine’s sitting-room when Maude entered. 
The old lady was reclining very much at her ease in an arm-chair 
near the window, occupied with her eternal knitting. 


180 


PIQUE. 


“ Well, my dear Miss Conway, I am glad to see you at last * 
Catherine has been expecting you hours ago. She has only just 
laid down her needle to take a stroll in the flower-garden with 
Charles Turville. See, there they both are at the end of the ter- 
race,” said the old lady, firmly grasping her knitting, lest Maude's 
sudden incursion should betray her into a slip of the pin. 

“ I could not come before, Mrs. Otway, or you may be sure you 
would have seen me. I will go and meet Catherine.” 

Lady Catherine and her cousin were in deep conversation, and 
did not perceive Maude’s approach until she was close upon them. 

“At last, dear Maude, here you are! I have been expecting 
you ever since two o’clock, you shameful truant,” exclaimed Lady 
Catherine, stepping forwards, with rather heightened color. 

“I could not leave home. Isabella went out with Mrs. St. 
Priest, and you know mamma is not happy unless one of us remains 
with her,” replied Maude, shaking hands with Mr. Turville. 

“ I met Mrs. St. Priest and your sister, on their road to Nether- 
cote, as I was on mine hither. You have never been to see ray 
flowers, Miss Conway. I consider myself very ill used. Why 
did you not drive over with your sister yesterday?” asked Mr. 
Turville. 

“ For the same reason that I could not come here earlier to-day. 
Mamma cannot endure to be left alone.” 

“ And so you have arranged always to stay at home while your 
sister goes out, Miss Conway? I protest, since my arrival in this 
neighborhood (excepting occasionally here) I do not believe I have 
met you half-a-dozen times.” 

“For shame, Charles! With your usual unceremonious lan- 
guage you have brought the color into Maude’s cheeks,” exclaimed 
Lady Catherine, laughingly. 

“I am very sorry ; but I hope Miss Conway will prove herself 
as good and amiable as she appears, by forgiving me when I 
aggravate the offence by saying it becomes her too well for me to 
repent the words which kindled it.” 

“ Well, Maude, you are the first young lady, including myself, 
whom I ever heard that matter-of-fact cousin of mine compliment.” 

“ Thank you, Catherine. It is some consolation to know that 
you think about me, so I will not grumble at the manner,” replied 
Mr. Turville, fixing his large dark eyes on his cousin’s face. “ But 
do you not think you could manage to drive Miss Conway over to 
Nethercote to-morrow? I want her to see my garden before thw 
flower fete.” 

“ Certainly. Maude, will you go ? ” 


riQUE. 


181 


“ Yes, if nothing intervenes I should enjoy it very much ; but 
I cannot promise this evening. I will send you word to-morrow 
morning, if you will allow me, Catherine.” 

“Oh, surely for once your sister may stay at home and take 
care of her mother. Could she not?” exclaimed the incorrigible 
JVlr. Turville. 

Maude could not refrain from laughing. 

“ Never mini, Chariest He expends all his compliments and 
polite speeches at Mon-Bijou and so has little ready coiu in hand,” 
rejoined Lady Catherine. “ How very intimate Isabella seems to 
have become all at once with Mrs. St. Priest, Maude ! They are 
always driving about together now.” 

“ Yes, they are very great friends.” replied Maude, hastily. 

“ Mrs. St. Priest is the most frivolous little doll of a woman 1 
ever met with ; yet I have a strong suspicion under that artificial 
manner lurk deeper designs. Depend upon it, she is a dangerous 
woman,” said Mr. Turville. 

“ You ought not to say so, at any rate, Charles.” 

“ Pray, why not? ” 

“Because Mrs St Priest lauds everywhere, to the extent of her 
ability, the taste, learning, and divers fascinations of Charles 
Egremont Turville, Esq.,” replied Lady Catherine, laughing. 

“ You mean, she praises Nethercote and its various eligibilities. 
I wonder what place in her estimation Charles Egremont Turville 
would hold without it? However, 1 repay her admiration, by 
allowing her to drive her ponies there whenever she chooses,” 
rejoined Mr. Turville. 

“ How very gracious ! She must appreciate the boon.” 

“So it seems, for she pays Nethercote a visit every third day. 
You, Catherine, give me one call to her fifty. Why do you not 
come oftener ? ” 

The color came into Lady Catherine’s check. 

“ Did you ever hear such a question, Maude? ” Shall I never 
make you understand, Charles, that it is not etiquette for yoiiog 
ladies to pay frequent visits at bachelors’ houses?” 

“ 1 consider etiquette a very troublesome thing, when it inter- 
feres with pleasant social arrangements,” replied Mr. Turville, in 
grumbling accents. 

“ Come, Maude, let us go into the house. You must rest, before 
you commence your walk homewards. Mrs. Otway, also, will 
think we are behaving very ill, to leave her alone so long,” said 
Lady Catherine. 

Miss Conway assented, though she was not in the least fatigued, 

16 


182 


riQUE. 


and had listened with much amusement to the dialogue between 
her friend and Mr. Turville. Of the latter’s admiration of and 
predilection for his fair cousin’s society, Maude had long had her 
private opinion ; though when challenged at home, she evaded the 
question. Mr. Egremont Turville had strong sterling sense, keen 
perception into character, and an energy which, combined with 
these other two qualities, seldom led him astray, and rendered him 
more fortunate in the realization of his projects than most men. 
He. moreover, possessed the rare qualification of invariably saying 
what he meant, and doing what he said. This uncommon charac- 
teristic sadly discomposed the tactics of such ladies as Mrs. St. 
Priest, who often found their prettily-turned sentences suddenly 
arrested by one of Mr. Turvillc’s shrewd, downright speeches. 

“ Well, Mrs. Otway, and how have you been getting on during 
our absence ? ” said Mr. Turville, seating himself, soon after they 
entered the room, by the old lady’s side. 

“Oh, tolerably well. See, Catherine, my dear, I have finished 
the stripe I began just before we left Narbonne ; ” then suddenly 
reminded, bv the gloom which overspread Lady Catherine’s face, 
that Lord Willingham’s fatal seizure happened on that night, and 
seeking to efface the reminiscence her words evoked, Mrs. Otway 
hastily added, — “I mean, ray dear, on the evening Mr. Randolph 
so suddenly made his appearance.” 

“ Who is this Mr. Randolph I so often hear you talk about, 
Mrs. Otway?” asked Mr. Turville, fixing his keen eyes on his 
cousin, whose fair brow and cheeks now rivalled the damask rose 
in her bosom. 

“ A very agreeable young Englishman, whose acquaintance we 
made in Italy.” replied Mrs. Otway, resolved to be very guarded 
in what she said. 

“ Well, but who is he? what is he? and where does he come 
from ? ” 

Mrs. Otway looked sadly perplexed. 

“ Well, Mr. Turville, 1 am sure I am not quite prepared to 
answer all these questions. His name is Randolph. I really do 
not know anything more about him.” 

“ But if he. had no introductions, where in the world did you 
and Catherine meet him ? ” 

“We met him first at Madame Pezzaro’s.” 

“ Ah ! so lie was one of those unfortunate, all-accomplished 
gentlemen, my good aunt picks up, and exhibits as lions at her 
villa. I see now,” rejoined Mr. Turville, stealing a searching 
glance at the Lady Catherine, and then fixing his dark eyes 


PIQUE. 


183 


thoughtfully on the ground. “ Have you seen anything of that 
charming, graceful- looking Lady Alresford, Catherine, since I saw 
you? ” demanded he, after a pause. 

“ I have seen her twice since. Lord Alresford, several times.” 

“ Only twice ? ” 

** No — she came here with the Earl two days ago.” 

“ It strikes me, Catherine, you are rather disappointed in the 
Earl’s choice. You do not seem half as intimate with Lady 
Alresford as I expected, or as I am sure you anticipated. Now, 
tell me what you really think of her.” 

“ Really, Charles, you put such very pertinent questions, that 
how to frame an answer is sometimes no slight embarrassment,” 
replied Lady Catherine, glancing at Maude 

“Do not trouble yourself to frame an answer, Oatnerine. Always 
tell me really what you think, or decline giving an answer at 
once,” said Mr. Turville, in rather a brusque tone. 

“ Well, you need not look so deeply injured,” exclaimed Lady 
Catherine, laughing. “ I have no objection to tell you my opinion 
of the Countess. I think her most beautiful and fascinating ; but 
there is coldness in her manner, and a want of warmth in return- 
ing all my civilities, which I cannot account for. I am sure she 
dislikes me.” 

“ My dear Lady Catherine, how can you use such strong 
expressions?” remonstrated Mrs. Otway, gravely. “The thing 
which struck me most during the short two Lours she spent here 
on Monday was. that she did not seem devoted enough to her noble- 
looking husband. I must say I was provoked at her indifference 1 ” 

“ How romantic you are become, Mrs. Otway ! Then jou think 
it a rule for a wife to show great devotion to her husband in pub- 
lic?” said Mr. Turville, smiling; for he greatly enjoyed putting 
the ol l lady on her mettle. 

“Good gracious, Mr. Turville! how quickly you take one up! 
I do not call sitting quietly here in Catherine’s room being in 
public. I question, with all her pretty face 1 nretty manner, 
whether Lady Alresford was ever in love with her nusband ! ” said 
Mrs. Otway, with a sagacious nod. 

Poor Mildred ! Could she but have heard Mrs. Otway’s opinion ! 

“ Some lover’s quarrel, I suppose, darkened the matrimonial 
horizon the morning they visited you, Catherine. I should make 
a point never to let my wife quarrel with me.” 

“Admirable! Oh, Charles, what a frank admission; so you 
would monopolize all the quarrelling yourself? ” 

A quiet smile curled Mr. Turville’s lip. 


184 


PIQUE. 


“ Well, Miss Conway, you have not yet spoken. I like to hear 
other people’s opinion. Do you agree with Catherine, that l ady 
Alresford lacks animation and warmth of manner, and with Mrs. 
Otway, that she never was in love with her husband ? ” 

Maude was too truthful to assert what she did not think — and 
we know she had very good reason to entertain a doubt on this 
latter point. 

“ Fcrhaps there may be a coldness in Lady Alresfrrd’s manner ; 
but we must remember she is amongst strangers,” replied she, 
evasively. 

“I see y r u will not venture an opinion upon Mrs. Otway’s 
assertion, Miss Conway,” said Mr. Turville, as Maude at that 
moment arose to take leave. 

“ You cannot possibly walk home alone,” observed Lady Cathe- 
rine, hastily, as she saw the risiug color on her friend’s cheek. 

“ Perhaps Charles will be your knight, Maude, and escort you 
back to More ton ? *’ 

“ l shall be most happy, if Miss Conway will allow me that 
honor,” replied Mr. Turville, promptly. 

Miss Conway, however, hesitated, and her face expressed such 
genuine distress that Lady Catherine gazed astonished. A mo- 
ment’s reflection revealed the source of her friend’s discomfiture. 

“On second thoughts, Charles, I cannot spare you just now, so 
pray sit down again ; Maude, I am sure, will excuse you ; or 
rather do me the favor to ring, for I am going to send her home in 
the pony carriage,” resumed she, quickly. 

“ Catherine, why would not Miss Conway allow me to escort her 
home? ” asked Mr. Turville, in his driest tones, throwing himself 
on the couch near his cousin, when he entered the drawing-room 
again, after handing Maude to the carriage. 

“ Cannot you guess ? ” 

“No. How should I ? ” 

“ Don’t you know Miss Conway is engaged to be married? ” 

“ What a prudent young lady! I suppose Colonel Sutherland 
is jealous?” 

“No, I never heard that he was. Maude is right for many 
reasons. You forget the Colonel’s amiable relative in this 
neighborhood.” 

“True — I forgot;” and Mr. Turville sat silently for some 
time watching his cousin as she bent over her work-frame. “ Cath- 
erine.” exclaimed he, at length, catching her fair hand as she drew 
the silk through the canvas, “what a very odd fancy it is of 
yours tc wear that ring. I suppose it is your mother’s? ” 


riQUE. 


185 


The ring was the one Mr Randolph placed on her fingei in the 
cathedral of Narbonne. The diamond guard she always wore, 
and which purposely completely covered it, had by some accident 
slipped aside. Hastily she snatched -her hand from her cousin’s 
gra^p. Lucki'y, Mr. Turville did not perceive the momentary 
pallor which spread over her cheek, or the convulsive tremor of 
her lip, for she sat with her back to the light. With a strong 
effort, she commanded her voice sufficiently to reply, in the easy 
tone of their previous discourse, — 

“Really, Charles, how impertinent you are growing ! I posi- 
tively will not satisfy your curiosity.” 

“Catherine, 1 shall envy that happy rann who, with your con- 
sent, takes it from your finger to replace it by another,” said Mr. 
Turville, earnestly. 

“ I cannot see any longer r so, like you, dear Mrs. Otway, must 
be content to be idle awhile ! ” exclaimed Lady Catherine, abruptly 
rising from her embroidery-frame, and approaching the old lady, 
who lay back, half asleep, in her chair. 

“ And I must think of riding home. I will go round to the 
stables for my horse,” said Mr Turville, slowly rising from his 
chair. “ Good-night, Catherine.” 

“Good-night, Charles.” 

And Mr. Turville quitted the room, while Lady Catherine buried 
her face in her hands, and presently bright tears forced themselves 
between her fingers and dropped upon her dress. Mrs. Otway did 
not speak, for the obscurity was too great for her to observe the 
distress of her beloved pupil Presently the silence was broken 
by the entrance of the butler with lights; and after he had closed 
the windows and retired, Mrs. Otway, rousing up, resumed her 
darling occupation; and Lady Catherine mechanically reseated 
herself at her frame. Tor some time they worked on in silence. 

At length Mrs. Otway began, — 

“ I have not heard you mention Mr. Randolph very lately, my 
dear. I suppose you receive good news from Kim ? ” asked she, 
hesitatingly ; for it was a subject seldom broached between them, 

“ Yes, l heard about a fortnight ago,” responded Lady Catherine, 
with a sigh. 

“ When do you expect him in England? That strange visit of 
his. when we were domiciled in that wretched French place, has 
always puzzled me. Ah, Catherine, it is a sad, sad thing that we 
ever fell in with him ! ” said the old lady, sighing also. 

“ He has promised to be here, — in England, in two months,” 
replied Lady Catherine, in a low voice. 

16 * 


186 


PIQUE. 


“ Well, I a m glad to hear this. I hate mystery ! Do you feel 
to care for him, my dear, after this period of absence, as much as 
you did at Narbonne ? ” 

“ Much, much more.” 

“ I was thinking, yesterday, what your cousin and Lord Aires- 
ford will say when they hear of your engagement, my dear, to a 
man nobody knows anything about ” 

“ Dear Mrs. Otway, do not let us anticipate evils. Surely, when 
present, they are hard enough to bear.” 

“ Ah, the present evil, Catherine, is to see you pining in secret, 
and exerting yourself in public to affect an appearance of happi- 
ness! Mr. Randolph told me he had had a long interview with 
you at Narbonne; did he tell you nothing about himself, my 
dear?” 

Lady Catherine shook her head, while tears dropped on her 
work. 

“ Mrs. Rayland, you know, said she met him at some fete. 
Now, my dear, what I should advise is, that you make a conffdant 
of Lord Alresford. I know he would find out all about this mys- 
terious lover of yours immediately. It will not do for you to go 
on in this way, Catherine ; a girl, beautiful as you are, and an 
heiress too ! You should not either, my dear, lay too much stress 
on Lord Willingham’s approval; for, during his last illness, he 
often appeared to me sligh'ly wandering at times. Now, will you 
apply to the Earl ? ” and Mrs. Otway laid down her knitting, and 
gazed earnestly into her pupil’s face. 

Lady Catherine arose ; she clasped her hands tightly together. 

“ Mrs. Otway, if you wish to insure my eternal love and grati- 
tude, promise me profound silence, profound secrecy, on everything 
respecting Randolph, for the next three months,” said she, in a 
voice of deep emotion. 

“ This affair, Catherine, causes me more anxiety than I can 
describe ; but I suppose, as you insist, I muse comply witn your 
desire. Nay, my dear, compose yourself, pray ; I cannot think 
what it is that raises such a tumult of passion when this man’s 
name is mentioned,” said Mrs. Otway, hastily rising, and throwing 
her arm round Lady Catherine’s waist. “At the expiration of 
these three months, may I consider myself at liberty to consult 
your guardian?” persisted Mrs. Otway, with more resolution than 
was her wont. 

“No. I will then myself take measures. But I do not distrust 
Randolph ; and though six weeks have elapsed since the period he 
promised to greet me here, I believe him true — honorable ! Mark. 


' PIQUE. 


187 


Mrs. Otway, not a shadow of a doubt lingers on my mind ! ” and 
Lady Catherine threw back her beautiful head ; but though her 
features still trembled with excitement, this open assertion of her 
lover’s truth seemed to have infused fresh confidence into her owd 
heart also. 

“ Well, my dear, all ’s well that ends well ; and I fervently 
trust it may prove so in your case,” said the old lady, mechanically 
taking up her knitting again. 

Lady Catherine lingered ’round her friend for a few minutes, 
and then paced up and down the room. Presently she approached 
the window, and drew from her bosom the half of the glittering 
clasp. Alas ! it had never yet been used for the purpose it was 
given. 

“I say, Catherine — now don’t laugh, my dear — do you not 
think it just possible, Mr. Randolph nmy be a Jesuit in disguise? 
Such things have happened,” said Mrs. Otway, with a look and 
manner of profound sagacity, interrupting the silence which 
prevailed. 

Lady Catherine laughed aloud. 

“ Nothing could be more unlikely, I assure you, my dear Mrs. 
Otway. I wonder where your suspicions will travel next ! ” 

Mrs. Otway made no reply, but appeared absorbed in her work. 

“Catherine, what a very clever, fascinating young man Charles 
Turvillc is ! I protest I like him as well as the Earl. Don’t you 
think him very agreeable?” 

“ Very ! And now, my dear old friend, as your ruminations 
seem to have travelled homewards, and it is growing late, we will 
ring, and summon the household to prayers,” said the Lady 
Catherine. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Mrs. St. Priest had always a keen eye to her own interest. 
She knew money was the grand desideratum which enabled people 
to overtower their fellows ; and. next to her own attractions, she 
deemed it the thing most easily bartered for the speedy attainment 
of her scheme of aggrandizement. The income of her late hus- 
band. Major St. Priest, amounted to the sum of two thousand per 
annum, exclusive of his pay. In gratitude for her eager solicitude 
to smooth his gouty pillow, the Major duly bequeathed fifteen 


/ 


188 


PIQUE. 


hundred a year to his young widow; the remaining five hundred 
of his income, secured on an estate in Cumberland, having been 
most generously settled by him on his nephew, Edward Suther- 
land, when the latter first entered the service, almost penniless. 
However, in the will was a memorandum of a few lines, over which 
Mrs. St. Priest, though so amply dowered, dwelt with unspeakable 
pleasure and self-gratification. It expressed the desire of the 
testator, that his nephew, Edward Sutherland, being now so well 
provided for by the large bequest of his paternal uncle, George 
Sutherland, Esquire, of the Grove, should relinquish to his widowed 
aunt, Ada St. Priest, this trifling addition to his income ; which 
would prevent her feeling that diminished affluence was added to 
the bitter trials of her widowhood. The wish of the deceased 
Major, Mrs. St. Priest took good care should be forthwith intimated 
to Colonel Sutherland ; but, to her exceeding vexation, instead of 
receiving by return of post a deed of renunciation of the five hun- 
dred per annum, executed in due form, a brief letter only arrived, 
containing much condolence for her loss, and vague assurances 
that his uncle’s desire should be duly weighed, as soon as profes- 
sional duties allowed him a single instant to devote to his own 
concerns. From that time to this, a period of five years, Airs. St. 
Priest heard nothing more of the affair. Though intensely pro- 
voked, she thought it most politic to keep up a brisk exchange of 
civilities, to guard against the possibility that he should forget 
such a person as his uncle’s widow existed ; and, consequently, no 
two persons could be on better terms than Colonel Sutherland and 
herself. He visited her at stated periods of the year, and often on 
his table lay billets from Mon-Bijou, mingling with newspapers 
and clumpy business letters, whose strong wiry addresses stood out 
in coarse relief against her airy, flowing characters. 

The morning Mrs. St. Priest visited Amcsbury Park, she 
received the following letter from Colonel Sutherland : — 

“ My Dear Ada : 

“ Knowing of old your inimitable dexterity, and having ofttimes 
experienced your kindness, do not be surprised if I now venture 
to entreat you to exercise this admirable ingenuity of ycurs in my 
behalf. 

“ You doubtless remember something of whai I told you during 
my last visit at Mon-Bijou, relative to my desperate love affair 
with Mildred Effingham, now Lady Alrcsford. That she once 
loved me, and at the time of her marriage cared not a sou for her 
magnifico of a husband, I venture little in asserting ; and as for 


riQUE. 


189 


my sentiments towards her, a lady of your discriminative powers 
will not long be in doubt, after perusing the whole of my letter. 
Now, this is what I beseech you to do for me: — drive over to 
Amesbury at your earliest possible convenience ; observe and uote 
attentively how the adorable .Mildred speaks, looks, and acts; 
whether her beautiful eyes beam love or hate on her lord ; and 
tell me as to the strength of the love between them. Have I made 
myself sufficiently intelligible? Another boon I have to crave, — 
do not think me exacting, — will you receive me during the first 
w r eek ot‘ next month as your guest? 

“ By-thc-byc, it may be as well to tell you, though I had nearly 
forgotten, that 1 have had an interview with old Buxton, one of 
the deceased Major’s executors, and, 1 doubt not, in a month or 
two we shall be able to arrange the trifling affair of the Cotgrove 
estate to your satisfaction. I owe you a thousand apologies for 
deferring its settlement so long. 

“Adieu! You may divine the impatience I shall await the 
report penned by your fairy fingers. Humbly kissing your hands, 
“ 1 remain, yours, very faithfully, 

“ Edward Sutherland.” 

The eyes of the widow glistened with satisfaction, as she perused 
the interesting document. Already she felt Cotgrove and its acres 
to be her own. Impatient of the least delay, before she put the 
machinery in motion which was to bring about this desirable 
result, the moment she finished luncheon she stepped into her 
phaeton, and set off for Amesbury. How she comported herself 
in the presence of the Earl and his bride, we have already related ; 
but on her return home, she descended to her boudoir, and wrote 
the subjoined epistle : — 

“ My Dear Edward : 

“ In compliance with your wish, I drove over this afternoon to 
Amesbury. What a barbarian you were to lure me into the den 
of this most exclusive of exclusive Earls! However, 1 have since 
thought it was a happily conceived project, to storm the fortress 
during the honey-moon; for it still beamed propitiously enough to 
sweeten my visit. 

“ Well, Edward, I admire this Countess of yours excessively. 
I never saw a more splendid creature ; and, comparatively speak- 
ing, Maude Conway is not worthy to hold a candle to illumine 
such beauty. As for the terms she is on with her lord and master, 
l cannot at present quite determine. There is evidently a some» 


19C 


PIQUE. 


thing; she is not at her ease, I mean, in the full confidence of 
being beloved. In the midst of all her splendor, I remarked a 
restless roving of the eye; especially in the presence of Lady 
Catherine Neville, who came to pay her a visit whilst I was at 
Amesbury. 1 will examine more attentively ; for I have exceeded 
your request, though 1 flatter myself, scarcely surpassed what you 
anticipated from my friendship, having, I think, created a favorable 
impression on your divinity ; and be sure nothing shall be left 
undone on my part to promote a friendly interchange of visits. 
From all I have as yet heard and seen, my advice to you is 
combined in the one word — 'persevere ! 

“ To throw a little light on the internal economy of the house- 
hold at Amesbury, I directed my maid to scrape an acquaintance 
with the Countess’s ; but to no purpose ; Mademoiselle Aglae was 
mute, and all Sandford’s pumping went for nought. 

“ Now, Edward, 1 want to know whether you seriously intend 
to enter the lists, and attempt to flirt with this exquisite Countess, 
in the very teeth of her hand some-looking husband ? If so, all I 
have to say is, that you are a courageous man, to hope to prevail 
against so dangerous a rival. Now, do not be angry ; if you come 
off the victor the greater your glory. I think I have given you all 
the information at present gleaned ; but I shall be vigilant ! 

“ In conclusion, I can only express my hope that you will give 
me the pleasure of your company at any time, for as long as you 
find it agreeable to remain at Mon-Bijou, and believe me ever, 

“ Ada St. PRIEST. ,, 

This letter duly despatched, Mrs. St. Priest dined with more 
than her usual gusto, and afterwards sat down to spend a long 
solitary evening, with a mind and temper more in unison with her 
outward deportment than they had ever been since the day she 
heard herself proclaimed unfettered mistress of fifteen hundred a 
year. 

In about three weeks from the date of the widow’s despatch, 
Lady Alresford drove over to Mon-Bijou, accompanied, however, 
by her husband. Her visit was a brief one, and no new lights 
flashed across the imaginative genius of their hostess. A little 
increase of cordiality, a3 she conceived, in the Countess’s manner, 
consoled her, nevertheless, at the time for this disappointment. 
Another fortnight elapsed, and no fresh visit of Lady Alresford’s 
was on record in her journal ; she had called at Amesbury. and 
was refused admittance. Mrs. St. Priest was in despair. Three 
more days and the Colonel was to arrive at Mon-Bijou ; how, then, 


PIQUE. 


191 


would her boastful assurances of her growing intimacy with the 
Countess be realized? 

One morning, as she sat pondering over the adverse turn affairs 
had taken, and moodily calculating the various luxuries that the 
additional five hundred to her income might insure ; which now, 
most probably, it would be her hard fate forever to forego ; the 
sound of carriage wheels rolling up to the door, smote upon her 
ear. Swiftly she sprang from the couch to the window overlooking 
the veranda, and actually clasped her hands together in ecstasy, 
wh in she perceived that tier visitor was no other than the wished* 
for Lady Alresford ; and what was more, the Countess came 
alone. 

And it was, indeed, Mildred, who now sat awaiting admittance 
at the portal of the artful, the designing Mrs. St. Priest; but 
Mildred, totally altered and unlike the bright being who, in days 
of yore, cheered all around by her sunny smile of gladness. Now, 
all was changed ; the dark spot was gradually stealing over her 
heart, rendering her existence joyless and burdensome. As her 
whole being yielded to the passionate love her husband now 
inspired, there came as a natural consequence the depreciation of 
self, the distrust of her own powers to captivate, and turn back 
again into their legitimate channel, affections which she concluded 
were either inthralled by another, or alienated past recovery by 
former frivolity and rejection. But side-by-side with' this humili- 
ating estimate of self — contradictory as it may appear — and, in 
proportion to her love, sprang up a deep burning resentment, that 
her beauty, her wit, and above all the half repentance she had 
expressed, had not brought the Earl again to her feet — had not 
brought one petition for her love — no, not one direct mark of 
affection ; for indirect ones Mildred’s proud heart scorned to accept. 
She, therefore, hardened herself in the belief of his indifference ; 
and though, in the Earl’s presence, pride and resentment enabled 
her to play the erroneous part she had imposed upon herself, and 
to close her lips from speaking words kind, gentle, loving — such 
as she fancied sometimes his eyes implored her to utter — her 
solitary hours, and now these were many, were spent in tears too 
hitter for words of comfort, such even as her mother’s and Helen’s 
letters contained, to assuage. 

Mildred’s fault, the source of all her misery, was a mistaken 
pride combined with a want of integrity ; which led her, from the 
very first date of her correspondence with her betrothed, to conceal 
the source of her secret discomfort — which betrayed her into the 
fatal error of attempting to retrieve the ground she fancied she 


102 


TIQUE. 


had lost, by exciting in liis bosom a sentiment of pique and jealous 
umbrage. Her principal defect, in a word, was essaying to obtain 
by circuitous routes that to which but one broad beaten. track 
properly led. She wanted firm moral courage and unswerving 
rectitude of purpose. “ Honesty is the best policy,” is a trite old 
maxim, and Mildred would have found it so ; but, unfortunately, 
experience had not yet taught her its truth. 

Turn back for a few minutes to Amesbury, and witness the little 
scene which preceded Mildred’s departure thence for Mon- 
Bijou. 

Lady Alresford was seated in her boudoir. She held before her 
some kind of work ; but it was her mind that labored, not her 
fingers. Her beautiful garden bloomed with unflagging lustre, and 
the fountain gurgled and threw up jets of water, clear as a sun- 
beam. Yet all this beauty was lost upon her, and her eye tunned 
coldly aside. Presently she raised her head, and a slight flush 
suffused her check, as she heard a step which she knew could be 
but that of her husband ; for her garden was held sacred against 
all other intruders. Soon he stood before the open window. 

“ Mildred, will you drive with me to Wardour Court? I want 
you to take Lady Catherine those specimens of plants she ad- 
mired so much, and which we promised to give her,” said Lord 
Alresford. 

Always Lady Catherine ! thought Mildred. 

“ I do not feel incliued to drive to-day ; so I must beg you will 
excuse me. Cannot you send Ferguson with the plants to Wardour 
Court? ” replied she, coldly ; rising, however, and approaching the 
window where the Earl stood. 

“No; I know the flowers will give Lady Catherine double 
pleasure if you will present them. Mildred. So do let me prevail 
upon you — you have only made two visits to Wardour since your 
marriage.” 

“ I am sorry to refuse any request of yours, Lord Alresford ; 
but I cannot go to Wardour to-day,” responded she, turning 
decisively away. 

“ Are you ill, Mildred ? ” asked the Earl, in accents of 
surprise. 

“No, perfectly well.” 

“ Then, why will you not go? ” 

Mildred hesitated ; the truth trembled on her lips. Alas, she 
had not courage to utter it ; or, perhaps, pique restrained her 
tongue. 

“ I have no especial reason,” replied she, in a low voice, turning 


PIQUE. 


193 


away to hide the tears which, despite her efforts, swam in her 
eyes. 

Lord Alresford paused a few minutes. Mildred’s head was 
pertinaciously bent over a vase of flowers on the table. 

“ I am sorry, Mildred, that you appear so resolved to deprive 
me of the pleasure of your society ; but as I cannot suffer Lady 
Catherine to be disappointed for your groundless caprice, I shall 
ride over and take the plants myself,” said lie, in a tone of 
displeas ire, walking away. 

Mildred remained motionless for a few seconds ; Lady Cathe- 
rine’s shadow cast a gloom over her heart. At length she arose, 
and with feelings of supreme indignation, resolving not to remain 
at home slighted and solitary, she ordered her carriage ; and, after 
reflecting on the most feasible expedition to exert her independence, 
desired her coachman to drive to Mrs. St. Priest’s. 

Mon-Bijou, or Mount Bi-jew, as the place was popularly termed 
among the neighboring rustics, was a small, low, compactly-built 
two-storied house, covered with ivy. A five minutes’ drive through 
a thick copse-like plantation led up to the hall door ; or, properly 
speaking, to the end of a long, projecting veranda, extending 
round one side of the house, paved with slabs, and bordered by 
deep boxes, placed along^ the wall, filled with flowering shrub and 
various odoriferous plants. 

When Mildred entered Mrs. St. Priest’s luxurious boudoir, she 
found her reclining negligently on a couch, with Donna sleeping on 
a crimson satin cushion at her feet. By the side of the sofa stood 
a rosewood work-table, upon which was a book, an ivory crotchet- 
needle, sundry colored silks and gold thread. The widow was 
attired in a loose sky-blue silk, and on her blonde tresses was 
lightly perched a small cap of the finest lace, with consummate 
taste. Bose-colored blinds excluded the light from the apartment, 
the atmosphere of which was laden with the heavy perfume of 
numerous bouquets in vases of the richest Sevres china or Bohemian 
glass. 

" My dear Countess, I am so enchanted to see you! I cannot 
thank you sufficiently for the honor of this visit,” exclaimed Mrs.. 
St. Priest, in her most winning tones, lightly springing from the 
couch, as Mildred was ushered in. 

“ Thank you; you are very kind,” replied Mildred, taking the 
hand Mrs. St. Priest eagerly proffered. 

“I fancied I never more was to see you, — that, somehow or 
other, you deemed my early visit intrusive; and you cannot 
imagine hew miserable the thought made me.” 

17 


194 


riQUE. 


“ 1 assure you, Mrs. St. Priest, such a feeling never ( xisted. 
But, latterly, I have had much to do, *and numerous visits to 
return,” replied Mildred, with her sweet smile. 

“ li es, I well remember that the first months of married life are 
the most enchanting — everything then seems couleryr de rose , and 
one breathes in a kind of ideal world. Alas, all that ’s fair must 
speedily fade, in sentiment as well as in reality ! ” said the widow, 
affectedly. 

“ It does so ; and prematurely sometimes; failing to be appre- 
ciated, it withers for lack of sympathy ! ” rejoined Mildred, with 
some asperity of tone ; for her heart was very sore. 

Mrs. St. Priest opened wide her large blue eyes, and fixed them 
inquiringly on her visitor. 

“ A bride of two months, and already a philosopher ! My dear 
Lady Alresford, pray excuse me ; it is positively something quite 
unique to hear you talk thus. It reminds me of the hungry man 
who, overpowered by the many good things set before him, sighed 
for a mouldy crust,” said Mrs. St. Priest, in her most playful 
manner. 

“ It, indeed, behooves me to be very thankful for the many 
elements of happiness Providence has mingled in my lot,” replied 
Mildred, quickly ; for there was something in the tone of her 
hostess which displeased her. 

“You are, indeed, highly favored, Lady Alresford. ’T is to 
such persons as myself — alone, solitary, severed from the inter- 
change of the nearest and dearest commune of heart — that this 
much-vaunted sunny world of ours appears bleak and dreary,” 
said Mrs. St. Priest, heaving a deep sigh, while her pretty blue 
eyes filled with tears. 

“ Nay, Mrs. St. Priest, you should not say so. Depend upoft 
it, could all secrets be disclosed, you would find yourself as well 
off as your neighbors. Happiness and prosperity, I am convinced, 
are pretty nearly equalized in this world ; and what seems lost on 
one side is gained on another ; though, of course, I do not mean 
to deny there may be special deviations from this general 
standard.” 

“ Ah! it is very well for you, at the summit of worldly felicity, 
thus to moralize. Contentment to us, who stand rather low in the 
scale of this world’s prosperity, is rather a difficult task to learn. 
But 1 have not yet made due inquiry after the health of Lord 
Alresford. I trust he is well?” asked Mrs. St. Priest, abruptly ; 
for argument was not her forte. 

“ Quite well, I thank you,” replied Mildred. 


PIQUE. 


195 


+ 

“ I have had a visit this morning from Sir Gerard and Lady 
Emily Baynton. I suppose they took me in passing to Amesbury 
or Wardour Court, for otherwise I am seldom favored with a call. 
Have you seen them, Lady Alresford ? ” 

“ No; but a visit from Sir Gerard would have given me great 
pleasure. He has called twice since his return from the Briory 
upon IiOrd Alresford ; but both times we were unfortunately from 
home,” replied Mildred, her thoughts instantly reverting to her 
friend Helen Campbell 

“ Sir Gerard is a most lively, agreeable personage. As for Lady 
Emily, though a paragon of virtue, she is the very embodiment of 
everything stiff, prim, and puritanical!” said Mrs. St. Priest, with 
a light laugh. 

Mildred laughed also ; but it was at the contrast between the 
two descriptions she had heard of Lady Emily’s character. 

“ Sir Gerard, nevertheless, believes there never was a woman 
who united so many perfections.” 

“ Yes ; but I am sure she must think her son on the high road to 
perdition, and travelling anywhere but heavenwards ! I dare say, 
they are gone to Wardour Court; for Lady Catherine always did 
draw them thither, by flattering the mother and smiling on the son.” 

“ Indeed ! ” exclaimed Mildred, anxiously, longing to ask more, 
yet fearing to appear too interested. “ I cannot understand, how- 
ever. what motive Lady Catherine can have for flattering either 
Sir Gerard or his mother.” 

“ My dear Lady Alresford, when you have been in this neigh- 
borhood a little longer, you will understand its politics better,” 
replied Mrs. St. Priest, with her most enchanting smile. “It was 
said, — though /do not affirm it, — that Lady Catherine’s object 
in flirting with Sir Gerard was to pique her guardian, Lord Alres- 
ford, into an offer; but this report, of course, was treated "as 
groundless slander when his lordship’s engagement to yourself 
was made public. Now people are abominable and malicious 
enough to fancy, at the present moment, that she hopes, by the 
same means, to captivate her rich and good-looking cousin, Mr. 
Egremont Turville.” 

“I consider both reports groundless and malicious as could 
possibly be fabricated. Why need Lady Catherine, with her 
beauty and talents, resort to such a disgraceful, unwomanly 
device?” replied Mildred; not choosing to show the impression 
the widow’s words created. 

“Every one is tolerably well persuaded, hereabouts, that Sir 
Gerard Baynton is not a marrying man, — at least so long as hia 


PIQUE. 


196 

♦ 

old dowager of a mother lives, — though a terrible dangler after 
any pretty young woman ; and the Earl, before his marriage, was 
so much at Wardour! Of course, Lady Catherine understood his 
attention to be brotherly, and offered in compassion to her forlorn 
position ; but the world did not, — and hence the rumor/’ 

“You do but render Lady Catherine Neville justice, I feel 
convinced, Mrs. St. Priest,” said Lady Alresford, gravely. 

“ Any woman, however, might be proud of arresting even the 
passing glance of such a man as your husband, Lady Alresford ; 
and perhaps, poor Lady Catherine’s wishes outran her prudence, 
and knowing what a marvellous stimulant pique is in diseases of 
the heart, she levelled this formidable weapon at her guardian, in 
ignorance of the silken fetters which rendered him proof against 
her blaudishments,” said Mrs. St. Priest, shrugging her ivory 
shoulders. 

“ It cannot be possible! The world must basely have miscon- 
strued Lady Catherine’s motives. She certainly knew of Lord* 
Alresford’s engagement ! ” said Mildred, musingly, without know- 
ing exactly what she uttered ; for her mind was busied searching 
amongst the endless webs imagination had spun, for a thread to 
unite with the suspicion so insidiously poured into her ear. 

A sudden gleam shot across the widow’s azure eye ; for, quick 
as thought, her fingers grasped the clue which should lead her 
through the intricacies of Mildred’s heart. Lady Alresford was 
jealous, — or at least uneasy, at the influence exercised over her 
husband by his ward ! 

“ Every one in the neighborhood was surprised at the news of 
the Earl’s engagement ; it created quite a sensation ; and I heard 
Lady Catherine audibly express her astonishment, in common 
with the rest of the world. But do you know, there is always 
something to me inexplicable in her ardent, imaginative disposi- 
tion, — something one shrinks from, in the deep glow and dazzle 
of her wild-looking eyes. It is the fashion here to sing her praise 
at every turn ; but I am not one of her blind devotees.” 

“ Indeed, Mrs. St. Priest, I think, then, you are very unjust 
towards Lady Catherine. I consider her one of the most charm- 
ing persons I ever met; nor, I must repeat, do I see how the 
dissimulation, you tell me, the world attributes to her, could 
avail. A girl must either be madly in love, or her chances at 
very desperate issue, when she resorts to the expedient of playing 
off one man against another,” said Lady Alresford, carelessly, 
turning over the leaves of a richly-bound album on the table ; 
but while her lips thus censured, somehow Mildred’s conscience 


PIQUE. 


197 


smote her on this point ; hence Mrs. St. Priest’s words sank the 
deeper. 

“ Do you not see how this expedient could serve her, Lady 
Alresford ? then, 1 will tell you. But to illustrate my meaning, 
forgive me for using a very homely simile. Don’t you know, that 
ff you heap coals on a fire, and suffer them for any length of time 
to lie undisturbed, they smoulder, and grow sluggish ; take up the 
poker, give them a sharp rap. and they speedily kindle again into 
vivid flame. Now, Lady Catherine hoped Sir tierard would play 
this friendly part of the poker, and so set — Mr. Egrcmont Turville’a 
heart in a blaze ! ” rejoined Mrs. St. Priest, pausing with consum- 
mate art, before she uttered the name of him against whom all 
this artifice was supposed to be directed. 

“You appear to consider that such expedients at times produce 
desirable results?” said Mildred, still nonchalantly turning over 
the pages of the book 

“ In some cases, I believe the remedy infallible. Men are such 
inconstants, that security is sure to be followed by satiety, and 
their roving hearts wander elsewhere. A little pique works won- 
ders. This is precisely the case with my friend, Edward Suther- 
land. Miss Conway bears his infidelities with the patience and 
resignation of a martyr ; now, if she would put him on the qui 
vive by flirting elsewhere, she would probably find him at her feet. 

It would positively be an act of the greatest kindness and charity 
to make her jealous; for, poor girl, I fear she is much more in 
love with Edward than he is with her!” exclaimed Mrs. St. Priest, 
watching the rising color on Mildred’s cheek. 

“ Has Colonel Sutherland been long engaged to Miss Conway?” 

“ About a year, or eighteen months. His residence at Stanmore 
did poor Maude irreparable injury He always quotes you. Lady 
Alresford, as his model of grace, beauty, and talent ; everything 
he can conceive enchanting in woman.” 

“ Colonel Sutherland, we all know, is a proficient in the art of 
delicate flattery,” said Mildred, pushing aside the book and rising, 
for the clock over the chimney-piece chimed hair-past four. 

“ Oh, do not go yet, pray, dear Lady Alresford. I want to 
show you first a magnificent calceolaria in the greenhouse, of which 
my good old gardener is not a little proud,” exclaimed Mrs. St. 
Priest, rising eagerly from the sofa. 

Mildred assented, and after walking round the garden two or 
three times, and listening for twenty minutes longer to Mrs. St. < 
Priest’s trifling nonsense, she was permitted to take leave and 
drive homewards. 

17 * 


198 


PIQUE. 


9 


And Lady Alresford’s sensations on her visit were, on the whole* 
pleasurable. 

When the carriage stopped at her own door, the Earl came 
forwards, and handed her out without word or comment. 

And did Mildred, during their long tete-a-tete that evening, 
seek to heal this second trilling breach between them ? Did she 
offer an explanation of her sudden expedition, and acknowledge 
that pique had made her capricious ; caprice, petulant ; and 
petulance, unkind and ungracious? 

No 1 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Some days elapsed, and Mildred neither saw nor heard any- 
thing more of Mrs St. Priest; but the widow’s insidious words 
sank deep into her heart, and much did she meditate thereupon. 
Was it, indeed, the certainty that she was bound to him by per- 
manent and indissoluble ties, which nursed her husband’s cold 
indifference, both from the period she had voluntarily renewed her 
engagement, and since her marriage, — and could it be that if, by 
the skilful exercise of her many attractions on others, this security 
might be shaken, she should witness his scorn and disregard 
vanish before the terrible fear of losing her forever? A bright 
gleam of joy thrilled her heart as she sat and pondered thus. 
Disregarding the many warnings of the past, she still blindly 
refused diligently to search out and follow the one little path of 
truth and rectitude, and obstinately wandered amid the plausible 
ways of deceit and subterfuge. She had yet to learn, to do 
evil that good may come, is of all devices the most hollow and 
fallacious ! 

From the day of her visit to Mrs. St. Priest, a marked change 
was apparent in her demeanor. She assumed a more reckless 
manner and air; she forced a higher flow of spirits, and the gentle 
deprecating voice she sometimes imagined he loved to hear, grew 
more decided and independent in its tones. Her beautiful eyes 
were more studiously averted than ever ; but in proportion to her 
neglect arose the Earl’s coolness ; he seemed content to take hei 
in any tone she chose. To conceal the anguish of her heart, 
Mildred spent much of her time alone in her boudoir. Her morn- 
ings were passed in ineffectual efforts to forget her miseries in tho 


PIQUE. 


199 


exercise of her favorite art, painting ; her evenings, in feigned 
gaycty or gloomy silence. When the Earl perceived the latter 
was her mood, he usually proposed to read aloud; and Mildred 
would then throw herself on a couch, and listen to* his voice until 
tears poured down her checks ; when, on the first opportunity, she 
generally seized some pretext, and betook herself to a hasty flight 
to indulge her sorrow in silence and solitude. Lord Alresford at 
first seemed surprised, and even alarmed, at these sudden with- 
drawals, and, after awaiting her return for some time, generally 
despatched a kind and urgent inquiry after her health ; an embas- 
sage of whrnh Aglae acquitted herself very ill, as she did not 
scruple to express to her mistress that she thought the Earl ought 
to be his own messenger. 

One evening, as she was thus making her precipitate exit, almost 
incapable of restraining the sobs that some half-hour’s musing on 
her position provoked, the fringe of her scarf caught the corner 
of a flower-stand, from which, blinded by her tears, she made an 
ineffectual attempt to extricate herself. Lord Alresford, observing 
her difficulty, instantly came to her assistance, and quietly disen- 
tangling the scarf, placed it again on her shoulders. She turned 
in mute thanks, and he then perceived that her eyes were brimful 
of tears, and her lips quivering with suppressed emotion. 

“ 1 would you deemed me worthy of your confidence ! Say, 
dear Mildred, what can I do for you ? ” said the Earl, in a low 
voice, as he threw his arm around her waist, and gently drew her 
towards him. 

For one brief instant she pressed her fair check on his bosom, 
and, without daring to raise her eyes, lest she should read pity 
and disdain in the deep glance bent upon her, she hurriedly dis- 
engaged herself from his arms, and fled the apartment. And the 
dark veil clung to her heart. 

Mildred, however, was deceived, because she would resolutely 
shut her heart to conviction Though every morning and evening 
of her life she put up the prayer that happiness might be restored 
to her, her resolution was not fervent and sincere to follow un- 
swervingly the pure inward impulses of right which might be 
vouchsafed to her petition ; consequently, her prayer was unan- 
swered, and her self-deceit suffered to abide. IS or could she con- 
sole herself with the reflection that Lord Alresford’s coldness, or 
denial of her request to remove from Amesbury, afforded any 
justification for her culpable reserve. She, who alone created the 
division in the first instance, and who now refused the slightest 
conciliation or confidence in return for the unbounded indulgence 


200 


PIQUE. 


showered upon her, — and this after solemnly pledging her ha td 
to him again, — might well stand convicted in the Earl’s esteem 
of heartless duplicity. All that night, after the little scene we 
have recorded, did Mildred spend in restless meditation ; but, as 
its basis was unsubstantial, so did it profit her nothing, and she 
arose with a mind still perturbed and vacillating. 

The following morning dawned, bright, clear, and warm, and 
no one rejoiced at this more than Mr. Egrcmont Turville, for it 
was the day of the flower fete at Nethereote ; and, moreover, it 
would bring the presence of his beautiful cousin, the Lady Cathe- 
rine — a pleasure Mr. Turville prized infinitely more than his 
floral show. Mildred, who had totally forgotten, until reminded 
by A lae, that by Lord Alresford’s desire she had accepted Mr. 
Turville’s invitation, gazed with feelings of dismay on her swollen 
eyel ds and pallid cheeks ; but after an hour or two spent in the 
open air in the seclusion of her own little garden, her beautiful 
face recovered much of its usual expression of calm composure. 
She sighed as Aglae’s busy fingers speedily arrayed her, for Mr. 
Turville’s fete to her had no attractions; and with that feeling of 
isolation at heart, — that icy feeling which seems to exclude all 
participation or fellowship in the pursuits of others, — she de- 
scended and joined her husband in the library. 

The grounds at Nethereote were laid out with infinite taste and 
skill ; as Mr. Turville’s passion for flowers prompted him to spare 
no expense to fill his parterres with the choicest specimens, and 
most brilliant hues. And a lovely sight it was as Mildred and 
her husband drove up. The undulating lawn was studded with 
clumps of rhododendrons, white, lilac, scarlet, in beautiful contrast 
with the green turf; and beyond, the eye revelled in the rich 
dazzling hues of the flower-garden. Shrubs of all descriptions 
formed a verdant background to the garden, which was laid out in 
the Italian style, with stone vases and borders to the parterres. 
Pyramids of rare hot-house plants were dispersed here and there 
on the lawn, perfuming the air with their fragrance. Besides, 
there was every species of amusement for the diversion of his guests 
that Mr. Turville’s ingenuity could suggest: archery, cricket, 
boating; and as Mr Vernon, the distant relation from whom he 
inherited the estate, had been imbued with a fancy for filling his 
house with all sorts of curiosities, old pictures, in the most delight- 
ful variety, all these Mr. Turville had also made available for 
their entertainment. 

On one side of the lawn grew two noble sycamores, near which 
Mr. Turville stationed himoelf to welcome his guests. A great 


PIQUE. 


201 


number of ladies were already there assembled when Lady Alres- 
ford approached ; all looking* very picturesque, as she thought, 
grouped together in the mellowed light, as they sat under the 
trees. Amongst them she speedily d«seried Lady Catherine and 
Mrs. Otway, and at a little distance Lady Normanton and her two 
daughters. 

Mildred fancied there was a kind of restraint in Lady Cathe- 
rine’s greeting. However, she promptly made ro >m for her on the 
sofa upon which she and Mrs. Otway sat. 

“ I have not seen you for a very long time at Wardour, Mildred,” 
said she, after a short interval. 

“ 1 acknowledge myself a sad defaulter, Catherine, in my return 
of all your kindness ; but I hope soon to atone for my past 
negligence,” replied Mildred, coldly. 

“ I have no doubt your ladyship finds too many attractions in 
your beautiful new home to feel often inclined to quit it,” observed 
Mrs. Otway. 

“ Indeed, you are right, Airs. Otway. Lord Alresford’s gen- 
orous indulgence has there lavished upon me everything heart 
could desire,” rejoined Lady Alresford, warmly. 

“ Well, Mildred, I shall be very much inclined to quarrel with 
the Earl, if he and all your pretty things are ever destined to 
monopolize your entire attention,” said Lady Catherine, coldly. 

“ You are very kind to wish to sec me, Catherine ; 1 assure you, 
I will very soon drive over to Wardour,” replied Mildred, in 
kindlier tones. “ Lord Alresford did pay you a visit a few days 
ago, I believe.” 

“ Yes: he brought some plants; for which, dear Mildred, I feel 
very ungrateful not to have thanked you before. It was very kind 
of you to comply with my request so promptly.” 

“I believe your thanks are sol ly due to the Earl,” replied 
Lady Alresford, turning to speak to Lady Normanton, who, that 
minute, came up to shake hands with her. 

Lady Catherine and Airs. Otway exchanged glances. 

“ Well, Lady Alresford, this i3 a pretty sight. The' day has 
been propitious, for Air. Egrcmont Turvillc, has it not?.” said 
Lady Normanton, as Aiildred arose and walked away with her. 

“ Yes ; it is most delicious weather, and on such a day a flower 
fete is the most enjoyable thing in the world.” 

“ Very ! There are some people, Lady Alresford, on whom the 
sun always shines; and Mr. Turville, I think, is one of them. I 
wish to goodness, however, he would have more care for the com 
fort of his less fortunate friends, and, instead of keeping them 


202 


PIQUE. 


Btand’no' here, conduct them to the friendly shelter of th: nar ^uee 
yonder. Really, my daughters have not the least regard for the 
tortures I endure from brow ague, or they would not suffer me to 
leave home with such an absurdity of a parasol as this, instead of 
a daik one to soften the odious dazzle of the sun!” exclaimed 
1 ady Normanton, impatiently, shaking the delicate sky-blue 
parasol in her hand. 

“ If we retreat into the shade, Lady Normanton, perhaps you 
will feel less incommoded,” suggested Mildred, gently 

“ Yes ; let us go and sit awhile in the tent. Did you ever 
suffrr from brow ague, Lady Alresford? ” 

" No, never,” replied Mildred. 

“ 1 think nobody in the world seems to suffer but myself. 
There is Maude, who never endures a day of pain ; and as for 
Isabella, her ailments spring from nothing but absurd whims when 
she caunot obtain what she wishes,” responded Lady Normanton, 
fretfully. 

Mildred looked at her peevish companion in surprise. 

“ Miss Conway appears to possess excellent health and spirits. 
What an exceedingly pleasing countenance she has ! ” said Mildred, 
looking at Maude’s animated face, as she conversed with Mr. 
Turvillc and Lord Alresford. 

“ Yes, Maude’s face is well enough, though not to be compared 
with her sister’s; Isabella loses half her attractions by lazy non- 
chalance. But here come Sir Gerard Baynton and his mother. I 
wonder how many more people Mr. Turville expects ! I suppose 
we must remain here, or Lady Emily will be offended ; people are 
so susceptible now-a-days ! ” 

With no little curiosity and interest, Mildred watched the 
approach of Sir Gerard and his mother. Lady Emily leaned on 
her son’s arm. Her age, apparently, averaged between fifty and 
sixty ; her carriage was very erect ; and her complexion still clear 
and smooth as in her most blooming days. Her features were 
regular and pleasing, an 1 over all was diffused such an air of calm 
serenity and thought — her eye beamed with so benevolent a lustre, 
and the smile which hung on her still beautiful mouffi had some- 
thing so good, so genuine in its expression — that Mildred was 
inexpressibly charmed, and no longer wondered at Sir Gerard’s 
enthusiastic devotion to such a mother. Lady Emily was dressed 
very simply ; she wore a purple satin gown, a richly-embroidered 
cloak, and a white bonnet, contrasting admirably with the delicate 
pink which still suffused her checks ; thanks to early temperate 
habits, and a mind serene, at peace with itself and with all the 


PIQUE. 


203 


world. Mildred watched, almost with envy, her friendly greetings 
with I ady Catherine and the Earl. Presently, Sir Gerard Baynton 
glanced quickly round, and hastened towards her. 

“ Well, Lady Alresford, I only hope you feel half the delight 
this meeting with you again gives me, and then, 1 am sure, you 
will bestow upon me a very warm welcome,” said Sir Gerard, in 
his frank, cordial voice, warmly shaking her by the hand. 

“ Indeed, I am very, very glad to see you again, Sir Gerard.” 

“ IIow are they all at the Priory? When did you hear last 
from Lady Elvaston?” 

“ This morning ; dear mamma writes in much better spirits.” 

“ I am delighted to hear it. A wedding, after all, is one of the 
most melancholy things in the world. IIow is Miss Campbell ? ” 

“Quite well, and still mamma’s guest. I cannot tell you the 
comfort dear Helen has been to her ! ” 

“lam sure of it. Mis 3 Campbell never bestows her society in 
vain. She is something like my mother, whose every thought, if 
revealed, would be found a benefit to her neighbor. l)o you expect 
Miss Campbell soon at Amesbury?” 

“Not just at present. I hope she will accompany mammp, when 
she visits me,” replied Mildred, evasively. 

“You know I remained at the Priory for more than a fort- 
night after your marriage, Lady Alresford. I cannot express to 
you how swiftly and pleasantly the time fled ; and before I left I 
* had the pleasure of hearing that the preliminaries of my friend 
Miss’ L’cnny son’s marriage with Mr. Frank Norwood were arranged ; 
and, moreover, received from the bride elect a most pressing invi- 
tation to her wedding, which event is to come off next spring,” 
said Sir Gerard, laughingly. 

“Yes; Clara wrote me a long detail of her conquest. It has 
been a speedy, and 1 sincerely trust may prove a happy one ; 
though I must confess I should consider a marriage with Mr. 
Norwood a very hazardous affair.” 

“ So should I, indeed, Lady Alresford,” exclaimed Sir Gerard, 
laughing “After you left, we had a most ludicrous adventure 
at Settringham, which I verily believe emboldened Mr. Norwood 
to pop the momentous question to the fair (Tara. Lady Elvaston, 
Mis' Campbell, and myself, were invited by Lady Tennyson to 
join a boating party on her famous lake. All went on in capital 
style for some time, when, by an extraordinary inadvertence on 
Mr. Norwood's part, the boat in which he was rowing Miss Ten- 
nyson alone, capsized, and down they both went into the water. 
Clara screamed, but Mr. Norwood bore her up gallantly in hia 


204 


PIQUE, 


arms, and before anybody could hasten to her rescue, deposited 
her safely in a dead, faint on the bank. Luckily, Helen — Miss 
Campbell — d dined joining the pair in the boat, though much 
pressed to do so, and, therefore, was quite ready to proffer any 
assistance required. Now, do you not think this a most romantic 
episode ? ” 

‘ Very. After the first disagreeable shock, it must have made 
Clara feel a heroine for the day,” replied Mildred, laughing. 

“ Oh, I assure you, her sweeping majesty afterwards was 
inimitable ! However, in spite of her oddities of manner, MiA 
Jennyson has a good heart and an admirable temper, and I think 
is just the wife for Norwood. But, Lady Alresford, I want to hear 
your opinion of our neighborhood. How do you like us all ? ” 

“ I have received the utmost kindness and attention from every 
one ; but 1 will answer your question, Sir Gerard, this day six 
months. I do not feel to know anybody thoroughly here but 
yourself! ” 

“ Not Lady Catherine Neville? ” 

“ No ; as yet I know very little of Lady Catherine, and have 
only ascertained to my satisfaction that she is beautiful and 
accomplished.” 

There was something in Lady Alresford’s tone which made Sir 
Gerard turu and look at her earnestly. 

“ I do not think Alresford is looking so well as he did some 
months ago. Has anything been the matter, Lady Alresford ? ” 
asked Sir Gerard, thoughtfully, gazing at the Earl. 

“ Not that I am aware of, Sir Gerard,” replied Mildred, 
anxiously following the direction of his eyes. 

At this moment Mrs. St. Priest’s ponies were seen trotting 
brisk 1}' up the avenue. 

“Come, Lady Alresford, I want to make you and my mother 
known to each other. Do let me introduce her before Mrs. St. 
Priest’s arrival,” said Sir Gerard, offering his arm. 

Mildred took it, and they joined the group under the sycamores. 
After exchanging a few words with Lady Emily, who was convers- 
ing with the Earl, she took a seat by Sir Gerard. 

“ Who can Mrs. St. Priest have brought with her? I fancied 
I caught sight of a pair of moustachois as the carriage passed. I 
have taken an u iconquerable dislike to this little fantastic woman ! ” 
said Sir Gerard, with curling lip. 

Presently, Mrs. St. Priest, all perfume, gossamer, and smiles, 
joined the group, leaning on the arm of a gentleman. Sir Gerard 
uttered an exclamation of surprise, and Mildred, turning quickly 


PIQUE. 


205 


round, found herself face to face to Col nel Sutherland. She 
parted in spite of herself, and the color suffused her checks and 
brow, as on the instant she felt his full, bo'd gaze bent upon her. 
She looked at her husband ; he stood unmoved, talking with the 
greatest coolness to Lady Emily. She glanced at Maude Conway, 
who, with admirable self-command, continued her conversation, in 
a low tone, with Mr. Turville ; though the increased bloom on her 
check showed that she was not quite so insensible as she wished to 
appear. A feeling of intense irritation arose in Mildred’s breast, 
as she noted the little anxiety manifested by the Earl, who pres- 
ently turned altogether aside from her to address the Lady 
Catherine. 

After some little time devoted to paying his respects to Lady 
Normanton, and accounting for his unexpected presence in his 
usual off-hand style, Colonel Sutherland came up to Lady Alres- 
ford, and, apparently encouraged by the warmth of her greeting, 
took a seat by her side, while Maude Conway presently arose, and 
walked away in the direction of the house, with her friend Lady 
Catherine. Sir Gerard immediately sauntered off also, while 
Mildred had the satisfaction to see the Earl interrupt his discourse 
with Lady Emily, and for a few brief moments rivet his attention 
upon herself; and her heart throbbed with pleasure, as she fancied 
she detected a slight uneasiness, and dissatisfaction in his manner, 
when he withdrew his glance. Her spirits rose, and the beautiful 
color sparkled in her check as she listened, and responded to the 
Colonel’s flattery. 

“ My dear Lady Alresford, what can possess your lord to-day? 
I never saw his brow wreathed before with such dark majesty. 
Upon honor, one would suppose he was jealous of poor Edward, 
and tLat you were successfully availing yourself of the remedy I 
horrified you a few days ago by recommending as an admirable 
stimulant,” whispered Mrs. St. Priest, in her prettiest, and most 
insinuating tones. “Edward, pray, excuse me,” continued she, 
after a pause, “ my eye is wonderfully attracted by that ring of 
your». I never observed it before ; pray, let me look. Is it an 
antique?” , 

“I do not know. I would not, however, exchange it, or even 
take it from my finger, for anything in the world.” 

“ Oh ! ” laughed Mrs. St. Priest, as she arose and walked away, 
to join Isabella Conway. 

Mildred glanced negligently on the ring. All at once her color 
wavered, and her lips became very white, though her beautiful 
eyes flashed with indignation. The ring was an antique, the one 
18 


206 


PIQUE. 


given to her by the Earl on the day of their betrothraent. Colonel 
Sutherland, during the early days of their intimacy, playfully 
drew it from her finger, and all remembrance of the transaction 
had faded from Mildred’s recollection, until now it flashed upon 
her with bewildering distinctness. What would the Earl saj to 
her careless disregard of his gift? and still more, what would hs 
feel and think when he saw it arrogantly displayed on the Colonel’* 
hand ? W hat was now to be done ? How was she to regain pos- 
session of the precious pledge, and, if possible, hide her faithless- 
ness from her husband ? These thoughts passed swiftly as an 
arrow’s course through her mind. She turned again towards Lord 
Alresford. She thought he looked grave ; their eyes met, and in 
a few minutes he came towards her. 

“Mildred, will you go down to the lake?” he asked, offering 
his arm. 

She half arose. A sudden inspiration seemed to urge her to 
reveal her difficulty ; her eyes again fell on the ring sparkling on 
Colonel Sutherland’s finger ; but her fear, her terror of her hus- 
band’s contempt, and the deep misgiving that the reality and 
certainty of her act would still more alienate that esteem which 
she was now above everything eager to cultivate, prevailed. 
Yielding, therefore, to this false gloss, she sat down again, — 
inwardly determining to extricate herself from the predicament, 
and afterwards never more to hold the slightest communication 
with the unscrupulous Colonel Sutherland. 

“I will join you in a few minutes. The sun is at present so 
intense, I feel that its glare on the water would be perfectly over- 
powering ; but do not let me detain you,” replied she, at length, 
with some confusion of manner. 

The serious reproving look bent upon her by the Earl, as he 
immediately withdrew and walked away with Lady Emily, quite 
chased all kindly feeling from Lady Alresford’s heart ; she turned 
indignantly towards her companion. 

“ Colonel Sutherland, you have no right to that ring, which you 
have presumed most unwarrantably to wear ! It is mine, and I 
insist that it be restored to me instantly!” exclaimed she, in a 
tone of haughty decision. 

“ 1 have no right to it? You insist, Lady Alresford ? ” 

“Yes, I insist! You never had any right to it, and conse- 
quently have none now,” rejoiued Mildred, angrily. 

“ What! Did you not give it to me ? ” 

“ Never!” 

“ Lady Alresford, is it so ? Is it possible you have banished 


PIQUE. 


207 


from your memory, — that you intend to feign ignora nee )f all 
that has passed between us? Do you quite discard all remem- 
brance of those happy moments during which you suffered me to 
appropriate this ring?” replied Colonel Sutherland, looking full 
in her face, while a smile of hope and incredulity curled his hand- 
some lip. 

“ l remember well the period to which you allude. I was then 
heedless and unsuspicious, and laughed, and speedily forgot your 
presumption. Now, its audacity stands fully revealed ; and there- 
fore, if you set the slightest value on my future good opinion, 
give me back that ring,” rejoined Mildred, firmly. 

“ Audacity ! This is indeed a strange hard word to utter, Lady 
Alresford. But I know the arrival of the Earl of Alresford made 
all the difference ; had his lordship delayed his return home a few 
weeks longer, words such as those you have just now used would 
have had small significance between us.” 

“ I do not understand your insinuation, Colonel Sutherland.” 

“ There is such a thing as a marriage of convenience , as well as 
a marriage of the heart ! ” replied the Colonel, coldly, for he per- 
ceived her excitement. “ Will you walk. Lady Alresford? All 
the people are gone ; and perhaps our colloquy may be remarked.” 

“I shall not stoop to penetrate your meaning, Colonel Suther- 
land. Restore my ring, and then leave me, and offer your atten- 
tions where they are acceptable, and where they are due!” said 
Mildred, peremptorily; moving away, however, a few steps with 
the Colonel ; for the same thought occurred to her, that their tete- 
a-tete might be observed. 

“No, Lady Alresford; not even your positive commands shall 
compel me to give up this sole precious relic of the days you 
smiled upon me ; for that you did smile upon me you cannot deny. 
Answer me. Mildred ; how did you feel towards him now your 
husband at the time of your marriage ? ” 

Lady Alresford paused ; the vivid color glowed in her cheek. 

“ I will not. I will answer nothing,” replied she, resentfully. 

“No; for ’t were vain to deny you loved me when you gave 
your hand to another ; ay, worse than vain ; for your own lips 
revealed your repugnance, if not positive hatred, of your betrothed.” 

“ I never, never loved you ! No, never ! ” exclaimed Mildred, 
vehemently; “ and what you dare assert I admitted is false ; yes, 
false and plausible, as I have at last found you out to be, Colonel 
Sutherland.” 

“ What, Mildred ! do you mean to assert that our whole past 
connection has been a series of heartless coquetry on your part ? 


208 


PIQUE. 


that no responsive chord echoed within tc what your lips, youi 
eyes, your manner, everything proclaimed ? Could I have believed 
this, your severe reproofs at Fernley would, indeed, have fallen 
scathless to the ground. I, at least, have sincerity on my side , 
for I worship the very ground on which you tread, Mildred. Oh! 
say I was not always indifferent to you, and that at least once your 
precious affection was mine,” said he, in a voice of deep agitation. 

“ Never ! Never, under any circumstances, after I learned 
your engagement, would I have been yours. Oh ! why will you 
persist in being the bane of my existence ? For shame, Colonel 
Sutherland ! consider the gross indelicacy of your present conduct 
towards Miss Conway. This, almost in the very presence of your 
betrothed wife !” exclaimed Mildred, rapidly, with burning check. 

“ Miss Conway! What care I for a hundred Maude Conways? 
I worship you only, Mildred.” 

“ To what can I appeal ? Colonel Sutherland, if you value my 
happiness, give me back that ring,” said she, at length, while her 
lips became very white. 

“ Your happiness depends on its possession ? I cannot believe 
it, Mildred ! But it is in vain you entreat ; never will I consent 
to part with this prized bauble ! ” replied the Colonel, after a 
pause ; pressing the ring to his lips, and again bending his 
passionate gaze on her agitated face. 

“ I shall appeal, then, to Lord Alresford,” replied she, coldly, 
and haughtily. 

“No, Mildred, you will not; because you dare not. You fear 
your husband’s anger,” persisted Colonel Sutherland, without 
noticing her indignant gestures. “ If you mutually loved and 
trusted one another, would you have evinced such agitation about 
this trifle ? Would you have given me the opportunity of speak- 
ing to you as I have done ? If there were no reserve between you, 
would it have materially signified whether this ring remained in 
my possession, or in your own ? ” 

All this was true, — undeniable. Mildred wept. Colonel 
Sutherland felt her arm tremble nervously. 

“ Mildred,” at length said he, “ I will not tyrannize over you ; 
nor shall you ever think of me as the bane of your existence. I 
will restore this ring on one condition.” 

“ Name it! ” exclaimed she, hurriedly raising her eyes, humid 
with tears, to his face. 

“ My relation, Mrs. St. Priest, gives a concert, or something of 
the kind, the day after to-morrow. She wishes for the honor of 
roanving Lord Alresford and yourself. The Earl, most prt bably, 


riQUE. 


209 


will disdain her invitation. Promise me you will come and the 
ring then shall be yours.” 

“ Without my husband ? Impossible ! ” 

“ This must be for you to consider, Lady Alresford. Perhaps 
the Earl, at your solicitation, may houor Ada with his company," 
replied the Colonel, in a tone slightly taunting. 

Mildred pressed her hand tightly across her brow. 

“ l will come ! ” said she, at length, firmly, with a sigh. 

A smile of triumph flitted across Colonel Sutherland’s face. Il£ 
turned nonchalantly away, as Lady Alresford abruptly dropped 
hi3 arm, and joined Mrs. Otway, who was strolling alone on the 
law n. 

Meanwh ’le, Mr. Turville seemed to hang on the footsteps of his 
beautiful cousin. Lady Catherine, however, studiously avoided 
his siltn: miuage. An air of weary restraint and languor sat on 
her brow, and she sighed as she gazed on the gay scene around, 
for to a spirit sid and ill at ease, there is nothing so overwhelm- 
ingly depressing as the sounds of mirth and merriment. Vainly 
did the Lady Catherine strive to listen, with an air of patient 
interest, to the animated nothings of the happy groups gathered 
on the margin of the water, until at length her desire for solitude 
could no longer be repressed ; and rising she quietly stole away, 
unperceived by all save one vigilant eye. and turned into a narrow 
path, shadowed on either side by lofty plantations, leading by a 
detour of some half mile, through the grounds of Nethercote to 
the small hamlet adjoining. 

Lady Catherine’s heart.was very sad, for the day, in its still, 
sublime beauty, reminded her of one — that most momentous one 
in her life — which she spent in the little, obscure city of Nar- 
bonne. Lady Catherine walked on musing, and slowly, until she 
came to a little green knoll, pleasantly shaded by a clump of beech- 
trees, when, overpowered by the heat of the day, she threw herself 
down on the soft turf. In a few minutes a quick step aroused her 
from her reverie, and soon her cousin, Mr. Turville, stood beside her. 

“Catherine, what dreadfully low spirits you are in to-day! 
What can be the matter ? ” replied he, looking anxiously on her 
face. 

“Ami, Charles ? Pray, do not think so ; it seems so ungrateful 
after all the beautiful things you have provided for >ur entertain- 
ment,” replied she, smiling. 

“ You do not deny the charge ; this is well. Catherine, tell mo 
what it is all about ? ” replied he, fixing his large, serious eyes 
anxiously upon her. 

18 * 


210 


PIQUE. 


“ Upon my word, I never met anybody half so inquisitive as you 
are become • Now, do you believe it possible that a woman can 
account for every fleeting emotion which produces a temporary fit 
of depression?” rejoined Lady Catherine, trying to laugh off her 
embarrassment. 

“ This will not do, Catherine ; this trifling does not deceive me ! 
You arc not happy ; there is something on your spirits ; and this 
I have long perceived. Will you not trust me, dear cousin? ” and 
Mr. Turville took the little soft hand which rested en the mossy 
bank. 

“ Can you wonder, Charles, if my spirits are not as good as they 
should be at my age ? ltemember the anxiety 1 have suffered 
during the last four years,” said Lady Catherine, struggling with 
her emotion. 

“ 1 understand, Catherine, to what you allude,” promptly 
rejoined Mr. Turville, glancing at her deep mourning gown. “ But 
it is not this sorrow which quenches your spirit ; for, for your 
father you mourn as one having hope ; but what is this deep gloom 
which causes you, so richly blessed, to turn with disgust from 
everything? that prompts you to hail solitude and seclusion? 
Tell me, dear Catherine ! ” 

There was something in the deep earnest pathos of his voice — 
something in its tremulous softness, which thrilled through her. 
How sweet is human sympathy ! At the first few words that ever 
touched on the secret source of her sorrow, Lady Catherine’s over- 
charged spirit yielded, and tears rolled down her cheeks. 

She had so long struggled with her silent grief. 

“ Catherine, tell me this secret ! I have a right to hear it, for 
I love you madly, — passionately ! Speak, Catherine ! I cannot 
live without you ! Tell me l have no rival to dread I ” exclaimed 
Mr. Turville, seizing her hands, and drawing her impetuously 
towards him. 

She shuddered. Her beautiful features seemed rigid with emo- 
tion as she tore her hands from his grasp. 

“ Charles, Charles ! forbear, I beseech you ! ” were the only 
words which burst from her trembling lips. 

“ What does this mean, Catherine? Surely, surely not that 
those dear lips are about to pronounce a doom, an hereafter, I 
shudder to realize ! Think again, dear Catherine. I love you 
beyond the power of expression ! Give me hope — even the very 
faintest glimmer! ” said he, passionately, kissing her hands. 

“What shall I say?” exclaimed Lady Catherine, at length, 
raising her eyes, swimming in tears, to the agitated face of her 


PIQUE. 


211 


cousin. “ Charles, hate me — yet forgive me, that, while absorbed 
in my own selfish sorrows, until lately, I have been blind to your 
love. 1 have lured you daily into my society without once reflect- 
ing what might be the result. Will you forgive me ? will you 
speak to me more, when I tell you I can never, never be yours V ” 

“ Catherine, you caonot be in earnest! Oh, recall your words. 
Say, my Catherine, — say it is not so ! ” and Mr. Turvillc stooped, 
and pressed his lips to her throbbing brow. 

“ I have said. Oh, Charles, tell me 1 have not made you very, 
very miserable.” 

“ Miserable ! Catherine, miserable is too feeble a word to express 
my feelings. Is there, indeed, no hope for me ? ” replied he, in a 
voice of deep anguish. 

She bowed her head on her fair hands, and spoke not, for deep 
sobs heaved her bosom. All at once she sprang to her feet with a 
start, at the sound of a rustling, and slight crashing of boughs in 
an adjoining spinny. 

“ What was that, Charles? What stirred yonder?” 

“ Probably, only a dog belonging to one of the keepers on their 
rounds. You need not be alarmed. Sit down again, Catherine.” 

She sat down. Her bonnet, in her agitation, had fallen to the 
ground ; and her black hair, bound in tight shining bands around 
her head, revealed the perfect contour of her face and throat. Mr. 
Turvillo’s eyes rested mournfully upon her. 

“ Answer me one question, Catherine. Do you love another ? ” 
asked he, at length. 

She bent her head in silence. An exclamation of deep pain 
burst from Mr. Turville’s lips. 

“ May I ask more, Catherine ? Though the vision of bliss, 
which I thought might empower me to read your heart is gone — 
bitterly dissipated, remember, I am your nearest kinsman.” 

“ No; you must not ask more. Some day you shall hear all — 
all!” 

“ Why not now ? ” persisted Mr. Turvillc, whose own straight- 
forward disposition could not brook the semblance of mystery. 
“ Why not now, Catherine ? ” and he turned his clear eyes inquir- 
ingly on her face. 

“ Charles, ask me not,” replied Lady Catherine, hastily rising, 
and tying on her bonnet. “ Nay, dear cousin, say not another 
word. I cannot tell you. Come, let us join your guests again,” 
continued she, walking forwards. 

Mr. Turvillc still looked gloomy and dissatisfied. 

“ Catherine, have you confided in Lord Alresford ? ” 


212 PIQUE. 

/ 

“ No,” replied she, briefly. 

“ Let us change the subject, Charles,” said Lady Catherine, 
firmly. “ I cannot at present explain anything to you.” 

Mr. Turville silently acquiesced, and they walked on side by 
side. 

“ I wish all these people were gone ! ” exclaimed he, as they 
presently again came upon the gayly-attired, happy-looking groups. 
“ Catherine, wall you let me row you, and then we may enjoy a 
tew minutes longer immunity from their nonsense ? ” 

•‘No, Charles, better not. Let us not prolong an interview so 
painful. I will go and walk w T ith Mrs Otway.” 

“ Who, then, shall I ask, Catherine, to accompany me? ” 

“ Ask Maude Conway ! ” replied Lady Catherine, hastily with- 
drawing her arm from her cousin’s, and walking away.” 

•‘ Edward tells me, Lady Alresford, that you will confer upon 
me the honor and pleasure of accepting my invitation for Friday 
next. 1 grieve to say I have been less successful with the Earl, 
who I find unfortunately presides at a public dinner at Avington 
on that day. Perhaps, however, you may prevail upon his lord- 
ship to join us later in the evening,” said Mrs. St. Priest, in her 
blandest tones, as Mildred stood by her husband’s side in the hall, 
before entering her carriage to drive homewards. 

“ Thank you ; you are very kind,” replied Mildred, shaking 
hands with Mrs. St. Priest, as the Earl immediately took her arm 
and hurried her to the carriage. 

And now we must request the reader to accompany us in a kind 
of Asmodcus-like expedition to the respective homes of our heroine 
and her would-be hostess, Mrs. St. Priest 

We will proceed then at once to Mon-Bijou, and enter, without 
further preamble, the widow’s fragrant boudoir, where she is seated 
on a low chair inhaling the perfume of a bunch of orange flowers 
rifled from the Nethercote conservatory. The hour is between ten 
and eleven ; the tapers over the fireplace are lighted, but the open 
windows still admit the soft August twilight. By one of the win- 
dows stands Colonel Sutherland Presently Mrs. St. Priest arose 
and went towards him, and stood silently for some time leaning 
against the window-frame, watching the undulations of the snowy 
petals she remorsely severed from her bouquet, as they fell, nestling 
amid the foliage of the laurels underneath; occasionally, also, 
stealing a sly glance at the cloudy countenance of her companion, 
who seemed absorbed in reverie. 


rrQUE. 


213 


“ Edward, your device of the ring appears to have worked mar- 
vels,” said she, at length, in her low, silvery tones, still bending 
out of the window. 

“ Yes, it was a lucky thought. Is she not beautiful, Ada ? ” 

“ Peerlessly I Will she come on Friday, think you ? ” 

“ Yes ; for I see she attaches immense importance to the 
possession of this ring. Ada, I cannot sufficiently express my 
admiration of your skid.” 

“ Edward, the little I have done for you is not worth even thanks 
at present. Have you courage to proceed? Shall we have the 
concert and tableau on Friday?” said Mrs. St. Priest, raising her 
eyes to the Colonel’s, and laying her hand lightly on his arm. 

“Courage! courage to make Mildred Effingham mine? Ada, 
you jest; or rather you know not how madly l love ! ” exclaimed 
Colonel Sutherland, fixing his eyes almost fiercely on her face, 
while his cheek flushed. 

“But docs she love you? Would she abandon all to follow 
you?” asked Mrs. St. Priest, doubtingly. 

“ She did love me. A sense of duty snatched her from me — 
but pique shall give her back to ray arnn. Mildred Effingham 
married intending to act righteously towards her husband — some 
fatal obstacle interposes. Ada, l tall you there is disunion between 
them. Gradually widen the breach until it becomes irreparable, 
and she is mine!” cried Colonel Sutherland, vehemently. 

“ I understand,” said Mrs. St. Priest, slowly, while a visible 
shudder passed over her, hardened in intrigue as she was. 

There was a few moments of silence. 

“ Suppose she should reveal all to this grandioso of a husband 
of hers, Edward ? ” at length resumed she. 

“Little fear of that,” replied Colonel Sutherland, while a smile 
of contempt hovered on his well cut lip. 

“ Why not ? What should prevent her? ” 

“Irresolution of character — that sweet woman’s weakness — 
which will make her mine, despite her struggles for freedom.” 

“ On Friday, then, we shall really witness les Triumph of Love , 
Edward, and our tableau will be most appropriately named ; for if 
it be as you say, she will come, and alone. If not, I consider it 
lost, and you had better patch up a peace with Maude Conway.” 

The Colonel made no reply Another pause ensued. 

“ L wonder, what that little precious secret is which poisons 
Mildred Effingham’s domestic happiness? What would I not 
sacrifice to be put in possession of it?” exclaimed the Colonel, 
moodily. 


214 


PIQUE. 


Mrs. St. Priest’s silver laughter rang round clear a? a bell. 

“ And what if I give you this key to Mildred Alrcsford'a 
heart?” said she, lightly. 

“Can you do it, Ada?” rejoined the Colonel, impetuously 
seizing her hands. “ 1 would sacrifice all I possess to obtain it ! ” 

“Softly, my dear Edward!” replied the widow, with a bland 
smile. “ A few words will put you right as to the position of our 
noble neighbors at Amesbury. Lady Alresford is annoyed, and 
jealous at the intimacy and strict friendship between her husband 
and the Lady Catherine Neville. Lord Alresford, on v his side, is 
indignant at his wife’s former flirtation with you. Neither will 
condescend to explain, an^soth< y both misunderstand each other’s 
motives and actions. However, 1 give you one word of advice, 
Edward — be speedy in your manoeuvres, or I would not give 
much for your chance of success, if my lord should one day take 
it into his head to make love in earnest to his beautiful wife.” 

“ My adorable Ada, your tact i* incomparable; 1 see it all ! ” 
exclaimed the Colonel, rapturously kissing the hands he held 
tightly clasped within his own. 

“ 1 shall leave you to your meditations now, Edward, which I 
certainly take to myself the credit of having enlivened. Do not, 
however, be too positive of success,” said Mrs. St. Priest, laughing, 
and shutting down the window. “ Good- night. Pray take care 
not to set the house on fire in your deep m usings on love and con- 
quest, I beseech you, Edward,” said Mrs. St. Priest, as she closed 
the door of the boudoir. 

It was about half an hour after her return from Nethercote, 
that Lady Alresford, divested of her gay attire, and wrapped in a 
loose muslin peignoir , reposed on a sola in her sitting-room. She 
had taken leave of her husband under the plea of fatigue, and now 
lay revolving all the cvpnts of the day. Everything around her 
was so still, so calm, that almost the throbbings of her own 
perplexed heart might be heard. The pendule over the chimney- 
piece ticked — that slow monotonous warning of the flight of time, 
almost solemn as steals on the car, amid the shades and silence of 
evening — and Mildred closed her eyes, and thought of her own 
dear Lome, cheered by her parents’ and Helen’s love, and she 
almost wept as she contrasted her present desolate loneliness, with 
him whose affection she had at length learned to prize as the 
dearest and most precious boon of earth 

Her reverie was at length broken by a rap at the door. Thinking 
the intruder could only be Aglae, she somewhat impatiently bade 


PIQUE. 


215 


her enter. The door immediately opened, and to her amazement 
Lori Alresford stood before her. It was the first time he had 
sought admittance at so late an hour. 

“ Do not disturb yourself, Mildred,” said he, restraining her 
from rising, as her first impulse prompted ; then taking a chair he 
seated himself beside her. 

The color flitted and deepened on Mildred’s cheek. What could 
be the purport of his visit? She felt he had a right to complain 
of her conduct ; but had she then, indeed, succeeded in forcing 
words of complaint at her coldness from his lips? 

44 Mildred, you are quite well aware of my determination never 
to suffer misapprehension of any kind to grow between us, which 
explanation would dissipate,” said he, gravely, fixing his eyes 
penetratingly on hers. “Did you know that you were to meet 
Colonel Sutherland at Nethercotc, to-day?” 

“ No, 1 djd not know that we were to meet him, nor even that 
he was expected in this neighborhood,” replied Mildred, while her 
color rose. 

“L hoped and trusted so, remembering your solemn promise 
never more voluntarily to subject yourself to the advances of that 
unprincipled man. Yet, Lady Alresford, your manner towards 
Colonel Sutherland to-day in public was far from meeting with my 
approbation — far from what it ought to have been, had you duly 
considered your own honor, and his whose name you bear. Do 
not agitate yourself, Mildred. I intend not to reproach you, but 
still, when 1 hear you forming engagements with Mrs. St. Priest, 
without even looking for the sanction of your husband’s presence, 
my course of action is clear ; I should be unworthy the confidence 
your parents reposed in me, did I not now peremptorily prohibit 
all further intercourse with Colonel Sutherland, and with Mrs. St 
Priest, whilst he is her guest.” 

The blood mounted to Mildred’s brow. 

44 Peremptorily forbid!” This from you, Lord Alresford?” 
said she, half rising from the sofa. 

44 And more than this, Lady Alresford ; I feel myself unhappily 
compelled to insist, that she who calls herself my wife shall not, 
on any future occasion, by similar levity of manner, permit the 
breath of slander to sully her reputation ; ” said the Earl, in tones 
unmoved. 

44 Lord Alresford, what right have you to use such language to 
me? How have I deserved it? ” asked Mildred, haughtily. 

“ You shall be your own judge, Lady Alresford. Mind, i heard 
nothing; I only observed what every one present might, and. 


216 


PIQUE. 


doubtless, did remark. Now, dare you repeat to me your conversa- 
tion with Colonel Sutherland this day?” 

She was silent; her eyes fell under the clear, open gaze bent 
upon her. 

“You cannot, Mildred ! Am I, then, wrmag to defend your 
inexperience against our mutual enemy? Remember the bitter 
past which casts its shadow over us now. Tell me, you will avoid 
this mm; nay, give me your solemn promise!” said the Earl ; 
with emotion, bending over her. 

But the archtemptcr, in the shape of Mrs. St. Priest, was busy 
at Mildred’s heart. A little more, she thought, and the Earl 
woul I be at her feet ; perhaps, even now, he was experiencing 
some small degree of the anguish which tortured her whenever the 
image of Lady Catherine arose. 

“ But, my lord, you cannot surely mean to ask me to forfeit the 
promise I gave to Mrs St. Priest? Anything but this. I have 
given my word,” sai l she, at length, with a smile. 

“ After what I have just said, Mildred, I confess I did not 
expect this observation,” replied the Earl, in a voice of cold 
displeasure. 

“ What can you fear? or, rather, why cannot you accompany 
me. Lord Alresford ? If I excuse myself, all the world will say 
you hold your wife in tutelage,” said Mildred, nonchalantly, 
twining one of her shining ringlets over her finger. 

“ Mildred, since you have borne my name, have I ever, directly 
or indirectly, sought to exercise the least authority, or to control 
your inclinations? I have left you in all things mistress of your 
actions, save in this one instance. If you think you owe me thanks 
for my forbearance, reward it by promising to avoid any intimacy 
with Mrs. St. Priest. Is this too much to ask from you, dear 
Mildred ? ” said the Earl, taking her hand kindly. 

She trembled ; never before had word of entreaty fallen from 
her husband’s lips. Her small hand lay in his — every pulse 
throbbed violently — but the ring, — the possession of which 
Colonel Sutherland retained, rose between her and what ner 
conscience suggested. She dare not confess the full extent of her 
past faithlessness to him who would as yet, she believed, view her 
conduct only through the medium of stern propriety. Had the 
Earl’s words been those of love, perhaps Mildred would have 
thrown herself oh his bosom, and a^ked even the solution of her 
miserable doubts. Could she but regain the memorial of her past 
infidelity, she imagined she could now meet him on more equal 
ground. Her resolution, therefore, was speedily taken. Poor 


PIQUE. 


217 


Mildred ! she forgot, in the struggles of her perplexed heart, the 
truth of the pithy, plain-spoken old proverb — “Hell is paved 
with good resolutions! ” 

“Do not let us discuss the subject anymore at present, my 
lord. When Fsiday arrives, I dare say wo shall be able to solve 
the disputed point to our satisfaction ; so let U3 adjourn the debate 
until then. ’ 

And Mildred averted her eyes to avoid the sight of her husband’s 
impending indignation. 

“ This trifling is unworthy of you, Lady Alresford. It is un- 
justifiable, — unprincipled! As long as you remain under my 
roof, you shall not heedlessly rush on your destruction: Listen, 
therefore. Mildred ! Though I will not harshly lay my positive 
commands on you to refrain from this visit, I think I have 
expressed ray sentiments plainly enough for you to hesitate on the 
propriety of setting them at nought ! ” exclaimed Lord Alresford 
indignantly, rising and approaching the door. 

She saw she had gone too far. She lay motionless on the sofa 

— her bosom palpitating, her black hair and the crimson glow on 
her cheek in beautiful contrast with the snowy muslin of her 
wrapper. She raised her eyes, and caught the parting glance of 
deep sorrow and disappointment imprinted on her husband’s noble 
features. In another moment, she would have been at his feet 

— in his arms — but he was gone ! 


CHAPTER XX. 

Meanwitile, Lady Catherine’s drive from Mr. Turville’s fete 
homewards was a refreshing, though a silent one ; for Mrs. Otway, 
wearied with the fatigue and excitement of the day, comfortably 
composed herself to sleep in the corner of the carriage. After her 
arrival at Wardour, Lady Catherine lingered a few moments in the 
porch, and on entering the house remarked that Hudson, the old 
butler, stood with the door of the sitting-room in liis hand, awaiting 
her with a face of the most serious importance. 

“ During your absence, my lady, a gentleman has been here to 
call upon your ladyship,” said he, carefully clo ing the door, and 
approaching his young mistress with a most mysterious air. 

“Very well, Hudson. The gentleman, probably, left hia 
la 


218 


PIQUE. 


card?” replied Lady Catherine, much amused at her old servant’s 
manner. 

“ No, my lady, he did not.” 

“ Then, perhaps, you can tell me his name ? ” 

“No, Lady Catherine, I never to my knowledge saw the gen- 
tleman before ; but he seemed so queer, and odd, that I felt quite 
thankful your ladyship was not at home.” 

“ How do you mean, Hudson? Did he not leave a message? 
What did the gentleman say for himself?” asked Mrs. Otway, 
approaching. 

“Why, you see, madam, it was just this,” — said Hudson, 
relieved from his embarrassment by the old lady’s kind smile. 
“ About half-past four o’clock the gentleman called, and asked to 
see her ladyship. I told him Lady Catherine was from home ; 
but instead of leaving his card and going away as I expected, he 
walked straight past me into this room. Of course I followed, and 
told him, as civilly as I could, that Lady Catherine was gone to 
the grand fete at Nethercote, and would not be home until late ; 
but he kept opening the books, one after another, and looked so 
wild-like that 1 felt afraid to say much, especially as I thought 
from his free manners he might possibly be one of her ladyship’s 
fureign acquaintance. Well, madam, after a bit, he desired me to 
shut the door and leave the room. As I thought it best not to 
irritate the gentleman, I did as he told me ; taking good care, 
however, to stand outside in the hall. Presently, madam, I heard 
him open that door opposite, into the little west parlor ; and then, 
after a time, he began pacing up and down as if he was walking 
for a wager. Your ladyship need not be alarmed ; I assure you, he 
went away quiedy enough at last,” said the old man, perceiving the 
pallor which gradually overspread his young mistress’s countenance. 

“ Very extraordinary conduct, indeed, Hudson. What was the 
gentleman like ? ” asked Mrs. Otway, darting a sharp glance at 
Lady Catherine. 

“ Why, madam, I am sure that it is difficult to say, his cloak 
came so high round his face, lie was tall and fu reign-looking, 
lie appeared very much put about at not seeing Lady Catherine.” 

“Are you quite sure lie left no message? Nothing?” broke 
from Lady Catherine’s trembling lips. 

“ 1 was going to tell your ladyship. After the gentleman had 
been shut up for above an hour, I took the liberty of going in to 
ask whether he would take any refreshment, when I found him 
seated exactly where your ladyship sits now; and it appears, 
madam, he had been wiiting something all this time to her lady- 


PIQUE. 


21 y 

ship, which he left on the table in the pai lor yonder, and desired 
me no-how, on no account to touch, but to leave exactly where he 
had put it until her ladyship returned. He then took his hat and 
rushed out of the house, madam, and L just got to the door in time 
to see him turn towards the shrubbery walks.” 

The old servant paused, to observe the effect of his narrative on 
the two ladies. Lady Catherine’s face was averted. 

“ You may go now, Hudson. I cannot imagine who this gen- 
tleman is; but I dare say if he his left a letter for your mistress, 
it will be found all right,” said Mrs. Otway, hastily. 

“ The paper is on the table yonder, Mrs. Otway ; I suffered no 
one to enter the room, the gentleman’s orders were so very strict. 
I wish also to say that your ladyship need not be alarmed, for I 
have caused the gardens to be searched, and no one is lurking 
about ; and everything is as you left it, both in this room and the 
next,” said Hudson, as, with a countenance much lightened, he 
hastened away. 

Lady Catherine sat with her face buried in her hands. 

“Catherine, my dear!” .said Mrs. Otway, approaching, and 
laying her hand, trembling with excitement, on her pupil’s shoulder. 

Lady Catherine raised her head ; her cheeks, lips, and brow 
were colorless as the whitest marble. Mrs. Otway hastily drew a 
smelling bottle from her pocket, 

“ r l his gentleman can only be Frederic Randolph. Will you 
not be pleased to hear of him, my dear ? ” said the good lady, as 
cheerily as she could command her voice. 

Lady Catherine arose, hastily passed her, and entered the small 
parlor. A large, unfinished picture stood on an easel near the 
window ; and on the table, upon which lay her brushes and 
palette, was a note addressed to her. She hurriedly tore it open ; 
one moment devoted to its perusal — and with a smothered cry of 
grief, she sank to the ground, fainting. 

“God bless my soul! What is to be done now? Hudson! 
Wilmot!” exclaimed Mrs. Otway, in an agony of alarm, wildly 
ringing all the bells in the two rooms. 

To increase her dismay, in the fall Lady Catherine’s head struck 
against the sharp corner of a chair, and blood was slowly streaming 
down h?r cheek from a slight cut on the temple. Mrs. Otway 
knelt down, and stanched the blood with her handkerchief. 

“ It’s Hudson’s and my opinion, Mrs. Otway, that this country 
does not suit our dear young lady. Excuse me, madam, but I 
think you ought to advise her to go back to Italy. It ’s killing 
her by inches ! ” exclaimed Wilmot, in desperation, a3 she lifted 
her young mistress from the ground ttf the sofa. 


220 


PIQUE. 


“ Catherine, my dear child, are you better? Dear me, I think 
I had better despatch a messenger for Lord Alresford,” said Mrs. 
Otway, as she ineffectually tried to draw the letter from Lady 
Catherine’s hand. 

“Neither Lord Alresford, nor anybody else will see my lady 
to-nisht, Mrs. Otway,” replied Wilmot, doggedly. 

“ Well, perhaps you are right, Wilmot ; it would only agitate 
her,” replied the old lady, who herself shook like an aspen leaf, 
sitting down by the side of the couch. 

Presently the palest color stole over Lady Catherine’s face : her 
lips moved convulsively, and she half opened her eyes, but closed 
them again immediately, until at length large tears slowly trickled 
down her checks. 

“ She will be better now ; but, Mrs. Otway, her ladyship is not 
in a fit state to bear any agitating conversation ; therefore, with 
your permission, I shall not leave her again to-night,” said Wilmot, 
in resolute tones ; and she carried her point, and watched until day- 
break by the side of her young mistress with the care and vigilance 
of a mother; for Wilmot was an old faithful servant, and had 
lived with Lady Catherine from her childhood. 

The few lines which had produced Lady Catherine’s agitation 
were as follows : — 

“ Catherine ! To-day I have seen the burning kiss of love 
imprinted by other lips than mine on the brow of her who swore 
to be my own forever ! Can you imagine the anguish which now 
supplants the anticipated rapture of my meeting with one whose 
love to me was paradise? My Catherine! have you forgotten the 
vows softly breathed in the mystic twilight of San Carlo of Nar- 
bonne ? or, rather, in your proud English home do you scorn and 
loathe the bond which unites you to one poor, unknown, obscure ? 
If you wish to see me, dismiss from your presence him who arro- 
gantly aspires to what is mine solely. Oh, Catherine, the keen 
anguish of finding you faithless — how shall even this sacrifice 
aasuage its pangs? My Catherine! mine still by the holiest, and 
most endearing of ties, — Earewell ! 

“ F. it." 

The following morning, deaf to Wilmot’s exhortations, Lady 
Catherine persisted in rising early. Mrs. Otway, to her infinite 
consternation, fouud her seated in the breakfast-room. Little was 
said on cither side, and as soon as the meal was despatched, Mrs. 
Otway retired to the privacy of her own room to meditate on the 


PIQUE. 


221 


very desperate resolution that suggested itself to her mind to 
acquaint Lord Alresford uiih the events which threatened, in her 
opinion, the total overthro \ of the happiness of her beloved pupil. 

As for Lady Catherine she paced up anl down ; wandering 
from the room on to the terrace, and from the terrace back to the 
room. She did not weep ; no tear fell to quench the burning 
anxiety which consumed her. She moved, but her spirit was 
insensible to all external objects, save those which ministered to 
her sorrow. She took a melancholy pleasure in following Mr. 
Randolph’s footsteps round the room ; she touched everything that 
fancy suggested he had touched ; and mechanically, her fingers 
turned the leaves of the books he had opened. She approached 
the table on which lay her painting materials; she started ; the 
colors on the palette were smeared, and the brushes scattered in 
disorder around. She stood before her picture, and tears at length 
swelled in her eyes as she recognized those masterly touches which 
imparted almost a living glow to the fair Sicilian landscape. Had 
he stood before it, and mused on the sunny passages which embel- 
lished their brief sojourn there ? Could he then deem her 
unfaithful, and doom her again to the anguish of suspense — to 
the bitterness of desertion ? 

Lady Catherine still stood before her easel mute, absorbed, when 
she heard a light bounding step on the terrace, then in the adjoining 
apartment, and the next moment Maude Conway entered hastily ; 
her sweet good-humored face radiant with smiles, and her manner 
so very much at variance with her usual pensive, sedate deport- 
ment, that her friend, had she been less abstracted, must have 
been assured some event of more than ordinary interest had 
occurred. Maude, however, paused abruptly as her eyes fell on 
Lady Catherine’s pallid face ; her smiles vanished as she hastened 
towards her. 

“ Good heavens, Catherine ! what is the matter? what has hap- 
pened to you?” exclaimed she in a voice of alarm, perceiving the 
gash on Lady Catherine’s forehead, which was only half concealed 
by the glossy band of hair drawn across. 

“ Don’t be alarmed, Maude ; it is only a mere scratch. After 
I returned home last night, I did not feel very well, and fainted, 
and my forehead struck against the corner of a chair,” replied 
Lady Catherine, hastily, with visible effort, passing her fingers 
slowly over the wound. 

“ But what made you faint, Catherine ? ” asked Maude, not at 
all satisfied by her friend’s hasty exjdahation. 

Lady Catherine sat down on tl c sofa. 

19 * 


222 


TIQUE. 


“ I believe I have been very nervous and unwell for some time 
past, Maude.” 

“ But if nothing extraordinary besides, dear Catherine, has 
combined to make you look so wretchedly ill this morning, I shall 
begin to be seriously alarmed about your health. What does Mrs. 
Otway say?” asked Maude, gently, seating herself by Lady 
Catherine’s side. 

“ Oh, of course, the slightest thing alarms her terribly. But I 
am better. Have patience with me, dearest Maude. Time will 
either bring freedom from pain, or the best of cures,” replied l ady 
Catherine, with a sad smile. 

“ I see how it is, Catherine. It is not alone bodily indisposition 
which robs you of health, but depression of spirits. You have not 
yet learned that hard lesson which teaches to smile, while the 
heart is breaking,” said Maude, sorrowfully. 

“ Maude, you are right; there is nothing worth living for in 
this world. Disappointment and sorrow meet at every turn in 
one’s destiny.” 

“And yet you have hope — bright hope, Catherine. If ever 
<eyes beamed love and admiration, those of Charles Turville do on 
you,” said Maude, gently. 

A flush suffused Lady Catherine’s 41 brow. She half started from 
the sofa — a feeling of keen apprehension took possession of her 
senses. 

“Maude, Maude! say not this, I beseech you. Charles Tur- 
ville is nothing — can never be anything to me ! ” 

For one brief moment Lady Normanton’s malicious assertion 
flashed across Miss Conway’s mind. Could it be that her friend’s 
health suffered from disappointment at her guardian’s marriage ? 

Poor Charles Turville, how bitter will be his disappointment, 
Catherine ! ” said Maude, with a sigh. 

“ The worst is over, Maude. He proposed to me yesterday, and 
1 refused him.” 

“Catherine, are you sure — very sure, you know your own 
heart? You always appeared to me to take such delight in each 
other’s society. Do nothing hastily, dear Catherine ; you cannot 
imagine the misery it may cost you afterwards,” Said Maude, very 
earnestly. 

“ I love and admire my cousip more than anybody in the world, 
save Lord Alresford ; and one other, Maude, whom I may not 
even name to you. Few things could now bring such joy to me as 
to learn that Charles was happy, and had met with some one 
worthy of his good and true heart.” 


PIQUE. 


223 


Miss Conway’s eyes turned with a pitying expression on her 
friend. 

“ Take courage, dear Catherine ! the heart recovers itself ; and 
the affections, though once cruelly crushed, are not so forever. 
’T is a stern discipline ; but I have endured it, and conquered,” 
said she, affectionately. 

There was something in Miss Conway’s tone which made Lady 
Catherine turn ancUlook earnestly in her face. 

“ Have you seen Colonel Sutherland this morning, Maude?” 
asked she, at length. 

“ lie called at Moreton ; hut of course, after his cruel neglect 
yesterday, I refused to see him,” rejoined she, calmly. 

. “ What course do you mean to pursue, then, Maude? I fear 
you will never be happy with so frivolous a being; and how he 
ever succeeded in attracting your affection has always been a 
mystery to me ; but this world is made up of contrarieties.” 

“ I have written this morning to dissolve our engagement.” 

“ Maude ! ” 

“ I felt that Edward Sutherland no longer possessed my esteem 
and confidence, therefore it was my bounden duty not to become 
his wife ; so I acted accordingly,” replied Miss Conway, while 
tears shone in her clear, blue eyes. 

“Has Colonel Sutherland ever explained his mysterious flirtation 
with Lady Alresford ? ” 

“ Yes. I do not attach the slightest culpability to her, as far 
as I am concerned. Lady Alresford was more sinned against than 
sinning. Colonel Sutherland kept her in complete ignorance of 
his engagement ; but the moment she discovered it, she insisted 
that the whole affair should be told to me.” 

“Did you observe his manner to her yesterday? Lord Alres- 
ford, I thought, looked much annoyed. Poor Mildred, how she 
must have suffered ! I wish she would let me be her friend,” said 
Lady Catherine, musingly. 

“ Lady Alresford wants resolution of character,” rejoined Maude, 
very gravely. 

There was a pause. Lady Catherine arose and leant out of the 
epen window. 

“ Maude,” at length said she, “ I cannot understand you. How 
can you look, and talk so calmly, after having discarded the man 
whom a few days ago you regarded as your affianced husband ? 
Did it cost you no pang ? ” 

“ Many, many, Catherine ; but in the midst of my trouble this 
morning, a letter arrived announcing the arrival of my dear brother 
in England. Do you remember him at all, Catherine? ” 


22 4 


PIQUE. 


“ As a boy only ; now, of course, I should not recognize him. 
But, dear Maude, I most sincerely congratulate you. I suppose 
you expect him at Moreton immediately.” 

“ Jso, indeed; business unfortunately detains him in London, 
and then he will be obliged to go down to Witham. Normanton, 
however, has written to ask me to accompany him there,” said 
Maude, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. 

“ But do not Lady Normanton and Isabella feel rather aggrieved 
( at not seeing him ? ” 

“ Why, Normanton says he hopes to pay them a hasty visit in a 
few days. Mamma dreads the meeting, on account of her delicate 
nerves, and so is well content to defer it awhile ; and Isabella 
exceedingly dislikes the thoughts of his return home to live with 
us. You will admire my brother, I am sure, Catherine ; he is 
such a fine, noble-looking fellow. You two are just the very 
people to fall in love,” said she, laughing. 

Lady Catherine shook her head, and turned languidly away 
towards the picture. 

“It is very odd you never met abroad ; but I suppose my brother 
must have been at Athens during your residence in Italy. How 
much you have improved your picture, Catherine ! Really, you 
have woiked immensely since I saw it, in spite of your accident.” 

“ Shall we go out and walk, Maude? My head aches ; and I 
think the air will revive me,” said Lady Catherine, putting down 
her palette, and turning away. 

And they went ; strolling for some hours in the fresh open air 
— Maude Conway dreaming of the delight of her anticipated 
meeting with her beloved brother — Lady Catherine passively 
listening to her animated expression of it — and thus they wandered 
on until the powerful rays of a mid-day sun drove them to seek 
refuge again in the house. 

In the evening, Mr. Turville came to pay his accustomed visit ; 
for somehow, since Lord Alresford’s engagements prevented him 
making such frequent calls at Wardour Court, Mr. Turville 
had supplied his place ; and the arrangement proved so pleasant a 
one, that insensibly it merged into custom. That it must now no 
longer be so, Lady Catherine’s heart told her ; her good, consid- 
erate cousin could not from henceforth be received on those terms 
of cordial familiarity which hitherto made their intercourse so 
delightful. She shrank from the ungrateful task of wounding his 
kind heart; but she felt it must be done ; another glance at Mr. 
Randolph’s note nerved her for the task. No wavering shook 
Lady Catherine’s determination ; she felt it a duty, and she 
resolved to act accordingly. 


riQUE. 


225 


She was standing on the lerrace at her favorite spot, command- 
ing an extensive view over the park. Maude was seated in the 
drawing-room with Mrs. Otway, and Mr. Turville. 

Soon the Utter arose and joined her. 

“Are you meditating about your late visitor, Catherine ? ” 
asked he, in hi3 plain, abrupt manner. 

S/ia was thinking of her ungracious task. She turned, however, 
and darted a scrutinizing glance upon him. 

“ From whom did you hear anything about my visitor, Charles ? M 

“ From Mrs. Otway. She only said, however, that some un- 
known called upon you during your absence from home yesterday. . 
Do you still refuse me your confidence, Catherine? ” 

She turned mournfully aside. 

“ Have you thought again on our interview ? Can you give me 
hope?” asked Mr. Turville, in tones of intense emotion. 

“ None, none ! If you indeed care for my happiness, never ask 
me this question again, Charles ! ” exclaimed she ; then suddenly 
seizing his arm as he was turning sorrowfully away, she added iu 
a voice choked with tears, “lam going to ask you to do me a 
favor — the kindest and most brotherly you can confer upon me. 
Yet, how* shall 1 find words to give you so much pain, my good, 
kind cousin ! ” cried she, stopping abruptly. 

“ What is it, Catherine ? Speak boldly — for if it be anything 
to promote your happiness or advantage, it cannot be painful to 
me,” said Mr. Turville, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. 

“ Cannot you guess, Charles ? ” 

“Nay, Catherine, I cannot read your heart, nor yet the imploring 
glance of those eyes. Remember, I am not in your confidence.” 

“ I will tell you frankly then, Charles. You must cease to 
make such frequent visits here. Dear cousin ! turn not so 
reproachfully from me — happier times may come ; and Charles, 
though unable to return your affection, I cannot tell you how I 
prize the expression of it. Can you forgive me, — and will you 
do what I ask?” said Lady Catherine, while tears rolled down 
her cheeks. 

Mr. Turville turned away. For some minutes, neither spoke. 

“ Will you not say a word — one word to me, Charles?” . 

“ This has been dictated to you, Catherine. What right has 
anybody to interfere between us? Who and what is this individual 
who appears to hold such sway over you ? ” at length he asked, 
moodily, almost angrily. 

She answered not, but bowed her fair face on the maible 
balustrade. 


223 


PIQUE. 


“ Is it jour own will, Catherine ? Do yon yourself condemn 
Lie to this banishment from your presence ?” 

“ It must be. You must leave me, Charles ! ” murmured she, 
without raising her head. 

“You shall be obeyed, Catherine, cost me what it will!” 
replied Mr. Turville, hurrying from her side. 

lie passed hastily through the drawing-room; then, suddenly 
returning, stood before Maude Conway. 

“ Miss Conway, Catherine has forbidden me to visit her. Do 
you, therefore, watch over her; and I conjure you, as you love her 
and value her happiness, apply at once to Lord Alresford on any 
emergency ; on — you know what I mean ? ” 

“ I will do so,” replied Maude, emphatically. 

He silently gave her his hand, and quitted the room. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Mildred, in the mean time, met her husband again, as if noth- 
ing had been amiss between them. Dissimulation, after all, is its 
own sharpest and heaviest scourge ; and she who, unhappily, in 
an unguarded moment subjects herself to its anguish, little dreams 
of the keen suffering which this torturing foe to inward peace 
inflicts. To act one way, and to be thoroughly persuaded another, 
is of all things most miserable and humiliating. Truth, — and 
resolution to assert it, — are perhaps of all mental qualifications 
the most essential to happiness and self-respect. Half the misery 
would be averted, did people possess more straightforward decision 
of purpose ; “ close with difficulties truthfully and honestly, and 
at once they vanish,” is a maxim which facts seldom refute. 

Though Mildred’s disingenuous disposition had already heaped 
upon her a complication of misunderstandings, still her pride yet 
towered too high to suffer her husband to read her true regret for 
the past, or to show him that she considered his affection worth 
conciliating. Her fear of his censure, perhaps, equalled her love ; 
she dreaded his contempt ; and, vacillating between fear and hope, 
wanting resolution to ascertain her true standing in his estimation, 
she spent her days in this miserable state of incertitude. Judging 
his feelings by her own, she attributed his grave, serious deport- 
ment when they met, to excessive displeasure at her refusal to 


PIQUE. 


227 


give the promise he had asked ; and also to anger at Colonel 
Sutherland’s attentions. Never, she fancied, since their marriage 
had his indifference been so thoroughly manifested. Mildred med- 
itated deeply and erroneously on this groundless fantasy ; for like 
all who resolutely resist the small still voice of conscious rectitude, 
the tempter had been busy at her heart. She dare not confess to 
the Earl that she had passively suffered another to appropriate his 
gift, — that the little circlet placed upon her finder when he 
acknowledged her his future bride, and which she had solemnly 
promised never to lay aside, until, from his betrothed, she became 
his own' by a far dearer title. At any risk, — at any sacrifice, 
this must be recovered ; and more also, a delusive voice whispered 
in her ear that her presence at Mrs. St. Priest’s soiree might pro- 
duce a twofold good ; notwithstanding, therefore, her husband’s 
positive injunctions, Mildred resolved to go ; for Mrs. St, Priest 
having craftily fixed on an evening when public duty compelled 
the Earl’s absence from Amesbury, left her at full liberty to follow 
her pleasure. 

Lord Alresford ordered his carriage on the day in question at 
half-past five. A little before this time Mildred was seated in the 
drawing-room bending languidly over her embroidery frame, with 
thoughts little enviable and satisfactory clouding her brow. When 
the Earl entered the room, she raised her eyes and gave one rapid 
glance at the handsome, manly figure of her husband, and then 
bent them down over her work. 

“I am come to say farewell, Mildred, before setting off for 
Avington,” said he, as he stooped, put his arm round her neck, 
and lightly kissed her brow ; “I feel very sorry to leave you to a 
solitary evening. You do not appear to like Lady Catherine’s 
society, Mildred, or I should propose to set you down' at Wardour, 
and call for you again on my return home.” 

“ Thank you ; you will be absent for so short a time that I shall 
scarcely have leisure to feel solitary,” replied Mildred, with beating 
heart. 

“ I shall be at home about half- past ten; and mind, Mildred, I 
shall expect to find you in the library on my return,” said the 
Earl, with a smile as he closed the door. 

Lady Alresford sat for seme time motionless. Deep, agitating 
thoughts furrowed her fair young brow. Presently she hurriedly 
arose, and pushing the frame impatiently from her, proceeded to 
her boudoir, and rang the bell. 

“lam going out this evening, Aglae. I wish you to order the 
carriage for half-past right. I shall wear blue satin, and pearl 


228 


PIQUE. 


ornaments,” said she, decisively, as soon as her maid appeared, 
turning away into the garden, heedless of Aglae’s astonishment 
and characteristic comment. 

And Mildred kept her word. At half-past eight she stepped 
into her carriage, and was speedily whirled to Mon-Bijou ; setting 
off with the firmest intention to be back before her husband. 

It would be difficult to give an analysis of Lady Alresford’ s 
feelings as she alighted at Mrs. St. Priest's door. She entered 
her saloon, however, which was filled with guests, with a demeanor 
firm and even haughty, and suffered herself to be led to a seat by 
her obsequious hostess, with an air and greater consciousness of 
her high rank than she had ever before assumed. Mrs. St. Priest s 
drawing-room glittered like Morgana’ s fairy halls ; everything was 
on a small scale, but all in perfect taste. The lights, the tall 
mirrors, the gilding and marble, the dresses and jewels of her 
guests, sparkled, and formed so brilliant a tout ensemble, that even 
Mildred’s practised eye wandered complacently around. As Mrs. 
St. Priest’s friends were invited to a concert, a splendid satinwood 
piano-forte stood nearly in the centre of the room ; a harp was 
placed on one side, and on the other sundry inlaid music-desks 
and piles of new music. Every vacant corner and reces3 in the 
room was lined with flowers and shrubs, filling the air with 
freshness and fragrance. 

Colonel Sutherland, with his handsome face and insinuating 
smile, stood leaning carelessly against the marble mantel-piece ; 
and excepting one or two other county notabilities, who had paid 
their respects for a few brief minutes at Amcsbury, Mildred, to 
her infinite joy, did not recognize a single personage. 

Mrs. St. Priest, in a white satin dress, fantastically looped up 
with gold tassels and pink roses, did the honors with a pretty, 
fluttering grace, that Mildred thought infinitely becoming to her. 
Now and then her bright bine eye wandered meaningly towards 
her handsome relative, and once or twice she paused in her dia- 
logue with those around to watch his movements. 

In a few minutes Colonel Sutherland approached Lady Alresford, 
who sat a little apart from the rest of the guests. 

“ I have ventured to hope Lady Alresford will accept this little 
peace-offering. Ah, Mildred, have you quite forgotten the day 
when you wore these flowers solely for me, because I loved them ? ” 
said he, presenting a splendid bouquet of scarlet japonicas. 

The scene in her boudoir at the Priory flashed vividly upon 
Lady Alresford’s recollection ; she remembered Helen Campbell’s 
emphatic warning. 


PIQUE. 


229 


She took the bouquet from the Colonel’s hand, and glancing 
negligently over its glowing beauties, made some trifling remark, 
and tossed it carelessly on the sofa by her side. 

“Colonel Sutherland,” said she, turning haughtily around, “I 
am here only for an hour. I have promised to be at home when 
Lord Alresford returns from Avington ; therefore, you will pardon 
me if I somewhat abruptly request you to fulfil your promise, and 
restore the ring that you have so long detained.” 

“ Does his lordship know for what purpose you are here to- 
night?” asked Colonel Sutherland, with consummate coolness. 

Lady Alresford hesitated ; she could not do her husband the 
injury to let it be supposed he had sanctioned her visit upon such 
an errand ; therefore, she at length replied in the negative. 

“ I thought so, Mildred. Had I the felicity to stand in the 
same relation towards you as the Earl does, neither would I have 
suffered you to come here alone,” replied he, sarcastically. 

Mildred felt her cheek burn. 

“ This is trifling; you have no right to put any questions to me, 
and 1 will answer none,” replied she, angrily. 

“ I had the honor of seeing Lord Alresford, to-day,” said Col. 
Sutherland, after a pause. 

“ Indeed! May 1 inquire where? ” rejoined Mildred, incredu- 
lously. 

“ At Wardour Court. Ada yesterday was alarmed by a mar- 
vellous tale that Lady Catherine Neville had met with a serious 
accident, and cut her head frightfully. We drove over this morn- 
ing to make due inquiries, and had the satisfaction of finding her 
ladyship pleasantly engaged in a very animated tete-a-tete with 
Lord Alresford, instead of reposing on a couch with her head band- 
aged up. What a splendid pair of eyes she has! And I never 
saw anything so soft and heavenly as the expression of her face.” 

Mildred felt indescribably irritated. Lord Alresford had not 
alluded even in the most remote manner to his visit. Colonel 
Sutherland watched her varying expression intently. 

“ Lady Catherine’s is a style of beauty 1 do not admire,” replied 
she, quickly. 

Colouel Sutherland laughed. 

** Nay, Lady Alresford, as you seem to me to be the very para- 
gon of good wives, you are bound to extend to all things the same 
degree of admiration as your lord. His approval of Lady Cathe- 
rine, I understand, is too unmistakably evident; therefore, you 
ought really to take her under your patronage.” 

“ J am disposed to act with the greatest kindness towards Lady 
20 


230 


PIQUE. 


Catherine, who invariably evinces a suitable sense of the deep 
obligations she is under to Lord Alresford,” replied Mildred, 
with dignity. 

“You know what malicious people say, Lady Alresford ? — that 
she was disposed to return those obligations with greater warmth 
than the occasion warranted,” said the Colonel, slowly. 

Lady Alresford rose hastily from her seat, and took up a hook 
of engravings from the table. 

“ Let our conversation end, Colonel Sutherland. I have ful- 
filled my promise ; and you, as a man of honor, are new bound to 
act up to yours,” said she, reseating herself. 

But Colonel Sutherland was saved the trouble of a reply by the 
presence of Mrs. St. Priest, who keenly watched the deportment of 
her guest, amidst all her exertion to keep up the spirit of her con- 
cert. She evidently thought for the present he had gone far enough 
in his colloquy with the Countess; for, in her sweetest tones she 
affectedly requested Mildred to honor the company by a display of 
her unrivalled talents as a musician and songstress. 

Lady Alresford immediately assented, glad of any mode of escape 
from Colonel Sutherland’s persecution ; and she was in the act of 
crossing the room to the piano when the door opened, and, Mr. 
Egremont Turville was announced. Kc looked amazed when he 
perceived Mildred’s beautiful face amid such a heterogeneous 
assemblage. 

“ Lady Alresford, is it possible I see you here, and alone ? I 
suppose you expect the Earl, when his duties at Avington are 
over?” exclaimed he, inquiringly, after he had exchanged saluta- 
tions with his hostess. 

“ No, 1 do not, indeed,” replied Mildred, calmly, drawing off 
her gloves. “ But I am also surprised to meet you here, for 1 
understood Mr Turville likewise dined at Avington.” 

“ Yes, so I did; but having heard your husband’s splendid 
speech, I soon got weary of the nonsense talked afterwards, and 
strolled in here. But what are you going to do, Lady Alresford ? ” 

“ Sing,” replied Mildred, seating herself at the piano. 

And soon her notes, soft, clear, and gushing, drew all round the 
instrument. It was an art in which she especially excelled, and 
at the present moment her* voice had more than its usual pathos 
and expression ; for her heart was full, and she yielded willingly 
to its outpouring. Colonel Sutherland leaned with both arms at 
the end of the piano, turning over some loose pages of music ; but 
bo placed as to command a full view of her face. Loud and unani- 
mous applause followed Lady Alresford’s performance, and she w r as 


PIQUE. 


231 


implored to sing again. Colonel Sutherland, taking up a piece of 
music, then approached, and in his most insinuating tones asked 
permission to accompany her. It was a song they had often sung 
in concert ; and the exquisite blending of their fine voices never 
failed to elicit rapturous admiration. Lady Alresford hesitated, 
but the urgent solicitation of those around almost compelled her 
acquiescence. They sang; fast and thick, thoughts of by-gone 
da} T s came crowding on Mildred’s fancy ; and when she arose from 
the piano, it was with flushing cheek, and a tremulous glitter in 
her eye. Colonel Sutherland then led her to a chair at a little 
distance from the piano ; she sat down, and again he stationed 
himself behind her, while Mrs. St. Priest favored her guests with a 
brilliant fantasia on the harp. Few words were exchanged between 
them ; but still, unlike his former manner, there was a deep, ear- 
nest tenderness and deference in his tones, which again painfully 
awoke reminiscences past. Not that Mildred faltered one instant 
in the new-born sentiment of passionate love which pervaded her 
heart for her husband ; but amid the soreness and irritation of dis- 
appointed hope, there was something indescribably soothing and 
grateful to her wounded self-esteem, in the homage even of Colonel 
Sutherland. 

*• Lady Alresford, will j t ou favor us with this superb duet? I 
am almost ashamed to ask you, but one so rarely meets two people 
who sing like you and Edward,” said Mrs. St. Priest, rising after 
she had finished her fantasia, and approaching Mildred with a piece 
of music in her hand. 

It was the splendid duo in II Tancredi, “ Lasciami! non t’as- 
colto.” 

“ Do not sing that duet, Lady Alresford,” said the clear, signifi- 
cant voice of Mr. Turville, in low tones. 

“ Why not ? It is a great favorite, and one I have often sung,” 
responded Mildred, coldly. 

“ Possibly. But take my advice, Lady Alresford, and do not 
sing any more this evening.” 

But it appeared as if it were Mildred’s unlucky destiny on this 
night to slight all prudent counsel. She sat down before the piano, 
struck the opening chords of the recitative, and soc n her whole 
soul was absorbed in its melouy. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. St. Priest turned to Mr. Turville, who sat 
watrhing the deportment of the company at large, with his usual 
dry, supercilious air. 

“ We were so charmed, Mr. Turville, to find your cousin’s 
reported accident untrue. People do invent such horrid stories 1 


232 


PIQUE. 


I thought I never saw Lady Catherine look better than did 
this morning.” said she. 

“ What accident, Mrs. St. Priest? I never heard of any acci- 
dent,” replied Mr. Turville, fixing his eyes keenly on the widow’s 
face. 

“Really! We were terrified yesterday by hearing that Lady 
Catherine had fallen, and severely injured h cr head. I cannot 
imagine what tales the world will fabricate next ! ” rejoined Mrs. 
St. Priest shrugging her white polished shoulders. 

“Humph!” mused Mr. Turville. “What a splendid display 
of plants you have here, Mrs. St. Priest ! ” continued he, after a 
silence of a few minutes. 

“ Do you think so? They must seem very shabby after your 
unrivalled show at Nethcrcote. I never saw grounds laid out with 
more perfect taste than yours, Mr. Turville. How successfully 
you have cultivated your talent for landscape gardening! ” 

“Or rather, old Air. Vernon did his, Airs. St. Priest; for the 
gardens at Nethercote are of his sole devising. I do not doubt, 
were he living, your commendation would be most flattering to 
him.” 

“ Apropos of fetes, I suppose we shall have one at Aloreton, to 
celebrate the return of Lord Normanton. 1 wonder whether he 
will be an acquisition to society in this neighborhood. Do you 
know anything of him Air. Turville?” 

“ Alost ladies, I believe, Airs St. Priest, consider a lord an 
acquisition at any time. Lord Normanton and myself were 
slightly acquainted at college.” 

“ Have you heard the news of Edward Sutherland’s fracas at 
Aloreton ? ” asked Airs. St. Priest, confidentially, after a pause. 

“ 1 hear news! Nobody ever tells me any, Airs. St. Priest, or 
troubles themselves about me. I am the most solitary being in 
the world ! What has happened at Aloreton ? ” 

“ Edward’s engagement is quite at an end with Aliss Conway. 
Maude chose to take it in her head to be jealous of his admiration of 
Lady Alresford — which 1 must own 1 thought carried a little too 
far at Nethercote — and so dismissed him the following morning.” 

“ Who ever would suspect the gentle-looking Alaude ( Conway" of 
being such a terrible vixen? And so, Airs. St. Priest, she is again 
ready armed to enter the matrimonial lists for conquest ? ” exclaimed 
Air Turville, looking highly diverted. 

“ All is not gold that glitters, Air. Turville. Young women are 
so ambitious in these days ; and Alaude’s conduct proves that she 
only awaited a pretext to break with poor Edward, as she fancies 


PIQUE. 


233 


the return of her brother will most probably give her the opportu- 
nity of contracting a greater marriage,” replied Mrs. St. Priest. 

“ Upon my word, Mrs. St. Priest, it is highly entertaining to 
hear one lady speak of another’s motives of action ; it gives one 
an insight into the tactics of the sex. But 1 am ashamed to mo- 
nopolize so much of your attention. Will you not kindly favor us 
with another sonata? ” said Mr. Turvillc, rising and leading the 
widow to her harp, he assiduously arranged her music, and retired 
again to his seat. 

At the conclusion of the duet, Colonel Sutherland offered his 
arm to Lady Alresford. 

“ Mildred, do you know Maude Conway has chosen to desert 
me? I received a* letter yesterday, in which she coolly intimates 
she considers our engagement at an cud,” said Colonel Sutherland, 
abruptly, as they strolled into Mrs. St. Priest’s boudoir, which was 
separated from the drawing-room by rose-coloted silk draperies. 

The blood flew to Lady Alrcsford’s brow, as the thought sug- 
gested itself, that, perhaps, Miss Conway justly attributed to her 
this rupture between herself and Colonel Sutherland ; she thought 
it better policy, however, to restrain her feelings. 

“ As you will, doubtless, Colonel Sutherland, use every effort to 
obtain Miss Conway’s pardon and renewed confidence, 1 must again 
beg of you no longer to delay the restoration of my ring ; which, 
of course, it must be highly offensive to her, as it is to me, for you 
to retain.” 

“ Mildred, you will be very angry with me, I fear ; but the truth 
of the matter is, I have not your ring. Yesterday, 1 perceived 
several of the stones w T ere loose, and knowing how much you val- 
ued it, I sent it instantly to a jeweller at Avington, who promised 
faithfully to return it this afternoon That he has not done so, I 
trust you will be just enough not to lay to my charge ; especially 
as I despatched a groom on horseback this evening for it, who, 
I regret to say, has returned unsuccessful,” said the Colonel, 
earnestly fixing his eyes on her face. 

She at once felt the falsity of the whole story ; her lips quivered 
with indignation 

“ Colonel Sutherland, this is equivocation ! you have the ring. 
Are you base, dishonorable enough to deny this, and retain it? ” 

“ Lady Alresford! Mildred ! Ada shall return it to you in a few 
days. Can you not believe me? I have it not,” exclaimed he, 
stooping, and passionately pressing her small hands to his lips. 

She snatched them from him. A look of angry contempt flashed 
from her eyes. 


20 * 


234 


PIQUE. 


“ No, I do not believe you ! and more, Colonel Sutherland, I 
perceive, and detest your double dealing! ” said she, vehemently. 

“Lady Alresford, this is too much. You shall yet unsay this 
last assertion ! ” exclaimed he, angrily, seizing her hands. 

A timepiece at this moment struck one. 

She broke violently from him, and re-entered the drawing-room ; 
and iu less than ten minutes Lady Alresford, escorted by Mr. 
Egremont Turville, stepped into her carriage, in defiance of Mrs. 
Sk Priest’s urgent entreaties that she would stay and witness 
the grand tableau with which the evening’s festivities were to 
con elude. 

“ Is Lord Alresford arrived at home ?” was the first question 
she put, with as much composure as she could assume on reaching 
Amesbury. 

“Yes, my lady; his lordship returned home at ten, and dis- 
missed his valet about half an hour ago.” 

Mildred, however, felt quite sure that her husband would not 
retire to rest until after her return. She remembered his desire 
to meet her in the library ; for one little second her better genius 
prevailed, and she paused at the door, and even laid her hand on 
the lock. The dread of his anger, however, overcame her resolu- 
tion ; she felt that she had no excuse to allege, no plea to urge, in 
deprecation of his reproaches ; nor was she even fortified with the 
inward consciousness of having succeeded in what she had hazarded 
so much to obtain ; so putting off the evil day, Lady Alresford 
darted up stairs, and entering her boudoir sank breathlessly on a 
couch. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

About eight o’clock the following morning, Aglae entered her 
mistress’s room with a cup of coffee. Mildred, fevered with a 
night of fitful tossings and restless slumbers, eagerly arose, and 
was languidly sipping it, when her eye fell on a note reposing on 
the snowy damask within the tray. She hastily set down her cup, 
and taking the note up, perceived that it3 superscription was in 
Mrs. St. Priest’s handwriting. A slight shudder passed over her , 
for, hitherto, her intercourse with the widow had not Deen pro- 
ductive of pleasing reminiscences ; and Mildred was beginning to 
be uncomfortably conscious of the fact. Mrs. St. Priest’s early 
communication ran thus ; — 


PIQUE. 


235 


** My Dear Countess : 

Accept a thousand apologies and excuses for arousing you at 
so unreasonable an hour ; but it is all Edward’s fault, J assure 
you, so you must scold him ! Men are so set, that when once they 
take anything into their heads, one might as well attempt to lull 
the fury of the wind, as to render them amenable to reason ! And 
now, I am almost ashamed to confess the purport of my missive ; 
but the fact is, Edward was so amazingly pleased at my poor little 
attempt at an entertainment last night, that he absolutely insists 
that a descriptive paragraph shall be inserted in the Avingtouand 
Stanmore Gazettes. With his usual hot impatience, he wished to 
despatch the order early this morning ; but I stood firm, that at 
least the paragraph should be first inspected by her whose presence 
conferred the chief eclat ou my fete. You will find it enclosed; 
do not be hypercritical, my dear Countess. 

“ Your devoted friend, 

“ Ada St. Priest.” 

In an agony of alarm, Lady Alresford seized the enclosed sheet, 
and read : — 

“ On Friday evening, Mon-Bijou, the elegant mansion of Mrs. 
St. Priest, presented a scene of unrivalled brilliancy. The enter- 
tainment, which was more numerously attended than any previously 
given in the county this year, commenced by a concert, and 
terminated by a grand mythological tableau, entitled ‘ The Tri- 
umphs of Love.’ Amongst the company we observed the Countess 
of Alresford, Alfred Carmichael, Esq., and Mrs. Caimichael, 
Charles Egrcmont Turville, Esq., the Rev. George and Mrs. 
Wyntour, and the near relative of the accomplished hostess, Colonel 

Sutherland, of the Dragoons. The concert was kept up with 

great spirit until a late hour. Its principal feature was the splen- 
did duet in * II Tancredi, — Lasciami! non t’ascolto,’ sang with 
rapturous applause by the beautiful Lady Alresford and Colonel 
Sutherland. Nothing more exquisite could be imagined than the 
way this gem of the opera was rendered by the performers ; and 
for purity of tone, artistic finish, combined with the impassioned 
feeling with which the tender, reproachful words of the song were 
uttered, we may safely assert it was an unequalled performance. 
The festivities were kept up to a late hour ; aud Mrs. St. Priest’s 
brilliant assembly will long be remembered in the neighborhood.” 

Mildred fell back breathlessly on the pillow ; she wildly clasped 
her hands as the vision of her husband’s anger and disgust became 
vividly pictured on her imagination. Shame and inevitable dis- 


23G 


PIQUE. 


grace menaced her, and she knew not how to extricate herself ; but 
with this knowledge came the bitter thought that she had madly 
incurred it, and that in the Earl’s dispassionate judgment she 
must stand convicted of inexcusable deceit and wilful obstinacy, 
for having, in defiance of his stringent commands, again sought 
the society of Colonel Sutherland, llow she should excuse herself 
on this one head had been all night long a subject of sore per- 
plexity ; how confess the story of the ring, which alone could 
furnish her with the slightest plea in deprecation of his anger. If 
her disgrace were published to the world, — her world, cognizant 
with her previous flirtation with Colonel Sutherland, — never could 
she hope to obtain the forgiveness of the fastidious, the sensitive 
Earl. What would her father, her mother, and Helen think, when 
they also perused the artfully- worded paragraph, which conveyed 
so much more than the truth? Never had such a complication of 
disgrace and misery presented itself to her imagination ; and, fairly 
overcome with the terrors of her position, Mildred buried her fair 
young head in her pillow and wept — wept bitterer tears than she 
had ever before shed ; for now self-reproach and conscious guilt 
mingled in the wildness of her grief. 

For a few minutes she silently indulged her sorrow ; it was a 
terrible lesson, and she writhed under it ; yet, though warning 
multiplied upon warning, still she did not recoil from the dangerous 
path she was pursuing — still did not see in truth and candor her 
best preservatives against the impending evil ; nor in the counsel 
and assistance of. him who had vowed to love and protect her, her 
surest refuge, and her best hope of meriting and obtaining 
forgiveness. 

She took up the letter, and perused it once more ; and the flat- 
tering suggestion occurred, that as her approval was so anxiously 
solicited, her disapproval might possibly effect the total withdrawal 
of the paragraph. Quick as the thought, she sprang from the 
bed, and hastily throwing her dressing-gown over her shoulders, 
passed into her boudoir, and with fevered cheek and knitted brow, 
seated herself at her writing-table, and wrote a hurried note to 
Mrs. St Priest Sentences conclusive and terse flowed from her 
pen ; much she felt was at stake, much her own unaided tact had 
to accomplish — yet a kind of feminine instinct warned her to 
conceal the keen anxiety which preyed upon her; for Mildred, 
amid her other experiences, was now beginning to doubt the 
sterling reality of Mrs. St. Priest’s pretty nothings. The note 
despatched, she rang for Aglae, and finished dressing; and then 
sat down with nervous impatience to await the return of her mes- 


PIQUE. 


237 


senger. Two hours elapsed, and at length Mrs. St. Priest’s reply 
was put into her hands. The envelope was of larger size than 
usual ; and when Mildred broke the seal, she found that it 
contained two notes. The widow’s perfumed rose-colored billet 
she first opened, and read : — 

“I am distressed, my dear Countess, beyond the power of 
expression, that I cannot comply with your request. 1 have given 
my word to allow Edward to insert the paragraph, with its just 
tribute to your surprising talent, and 1 cannot now retract. I 
have, however, shown him your letter, and as he is at this moment 
writing to you, I suspect he refuses to give me back my promise 
in order to have the sole glory, and merit of obeying your wishes 
Adieu. Believe me yours, in all sincerity, 

“ Ada St. Priest.” 

The letter dropped from Mildred’s trembling hands, and she 
took up Colonel Sutherland’s. A close, suffocating sensation over- 
powered her, and she hastily walked across the room to the window 
for air. Scarce could she muster courage to break its large, 
well-formed seal ; a dimness seemed to obscure her vision, but, 
nevertheless, she resolved to know the worst. The Colonel’s letter 
contained only these few laconic lines : — 

** Dear Lady Alresford : 

‘‘I will restore the ring, and sacrifice the paragraph which 
appears to inflict such extraordinary uneasiness, provided you will 
consent to grant me a private interview cither to-day or to-morrow. 
Our place of rendezvous for this purpose perhaps you will graciously 
indicate. With sentiments of profound devotion, I remain, 

“*Your ladyship’s most obliged, obedient servant, 

“ Edward Sutherland.” 

The question of, what now was to be done, burst with startling, 
bewildering distinctness on poor Mildred’s mind. Suppose she 
yielded to the tempter, and granted this interview, could she, after 
what had passed, again place faith in Colonel Sutherland’s prom- 
ises ? or could she, above all, compromise her reputation by 
consenting to a private assignation with her quondam lover? 
Mildred’s pure cheek burned with shame at the bare supposition. 
But the alternative, the dreadful alternative of having her name 
held up to public scandal and ridicule in conjunction with Colonel 
Sutherland’s, filled her with anguish and dismay. The Earl, with 


238 


PIQUE. 


his shrinking sensitiveness, — how would he bear it? Even if he 
pardoned her duplicity, and defiance of his wishes in seeking Mrs. 
St. Priest’s society, would he ever overlook or forgive the odium 
her frivolity had brought on his name? His own words during 
one of their interviews at the Priory, — “ Let me but respect my 
wife,” — sounded in her ears. Had she not already forfeited 
every claim to this by her heedless disregard of her reputation ? 
and now when the worst came to his knowledge, would he not cast 
her from him as a thing unworthy of being loved — incapable of 
appreciating his affection ? Deep sobs of anguish escaped her 
parched and quivering lips as these thoughts arose, and large drops 
stood on her pale brow as she threw herself on her knees, and 
buried her throbbing head amid the pillows of the couch against 
which she leaned. Then did she realize in its intensity the 
exceeding heaviness of the dubious course she had so long pursued, 
and keenly did she rue the hour in which, betrayed by a fancied 
sentiment of pique, she laid the foundation of that barrier which 
now reared its apparently impregnable front between herself and 
happiness. She felt and shuddered at the subtle snare into which 
her unprincipled admirer had so easily lured her unsuspecting 
steps. Tears fell in showers from her eyes; vainly she looked 
round for comfort, and found none. Her long, beautiful hair hung 
in clusters round her face and neck, humid with excessive weeping ; 
its weight appeared to oppress her ; she dashed it aside, and paced 
the room with faltering steps. How could she meet her husband 
— how endure his gaze ? With the eagerness of hope, suddenly 
she again snatched up the letters; her tears subsided, and she 
threw herself on her knees once more by the sofa, and carefully 
perused their contents, in the vain hope of finding a clue to lead 
her forth from this labyrinth of sorrow. Soon she flung them 
down again in despair, and resumed her wanderings up and down 
the apartment. Never before did her heart revert with such 
fervent affection to her absent friend Helen Campbell, as in this 
hour of trial ; and never did she so appreciate and revere that 
sturdy truthfulness of character, as when she felt the baneful 
effect of its absence in herself. 

Mildred still continued to pace up and down. In vain the sun, 
pouring in from the windows, threw around her its cheering warmth, 
and glanced and sparkled with gorgeous hues on the water of the 
fountain without. Her spirit was dark; insensible to outward 
impressions. Her first wild outbreak of passionate grief was now 
over, and faint and exhausted she sank presently into a chair, and 
leaned her aching head on the pillow of the couch. Passive and 


PIQUE, 


239 


inanimate she had thus reposed for a few minutes, when the door 
of her room opened without any previous demand for admission, 
and Lord Alresford stood before her. Her first impulse was to 
Btart to her feet — the next to hurry nervously under the cushion 
the papers which still strewed the sofa. Lord Alresford paused 
in utter amazement as he surveyed Mildred’s haggard face, her 
swollen eyes, and negligent deportment. For one moment his 
features relaxed in their severity, but soon he closed the door, 
and advanced towards her. He fixed his eyes sternly upon her. 
Involuntarily, she clasped her hands. 

“Lady Alresford, if this wid grief had been occasioned by 
regret at having acted yesterday in direct violation of my wishes, 
it would have brought you to, me long ago with the admission of 
your error on your lips ; its solution must be traced elsewhere ; 
probably to the same source which induced you to set at nought 
your duty as a wife. I know that a messenger from Mrs. St. 
Priest came over here this morning with a letter for you, and that 
one of my grooms has been despatched to her residence on the 
same errand. That correspondence is probably what you now 
attempt so industriously to conceal ; but as you can have no legit- 
imate secret which I ought not to share with you, you will, per- 
haps, favor me with its perusal.” said Lord Alresford, in tones 
which fell like bolts of ice on Mildred’s heart, as he deliberately 
walked to the spot where the papers lay hidden. 

A low cry of terror escaped her lips. 

“ Lord Alresford, I entreat, implore you to refrain ! I will tell 
you all, — all! — everything Mrs. St. Priest’s letter contains 1” 
cried she, grasping the cushion convulsively. 

Unmoved by the anguish which beamed in her tearful eyes, the 
Earl resolutely, but very gently, released the pillow from her tena- 
cious hold. 

“No, Lady Alresford, you would withhold something! Do 
you fear to let me read ? ” said he, in tones of stinging reproach, 
taking up the letters. 

The Earl walked to a distant window. Mildred covered her 
face with her hands, and her quick agitated breathing was the sole 
sound audible in the room. One by one he silently perused the 
papers She did not once venture to raise her eyes. Presently he 
spoke. 

“ Can it be possible Lady Alresford, you have acted the dishon- 
orable part these letters imply ? Well might you shrink from my 
scrutiny ! What must your conversation, and intimacy have been 
with. Colonel Sutherland, to authorize him to venture upon the 


240 


PIQUE. 


audacious proposal of a private assignation with you ! with my 
wife! ” exclaimed Lord Alresford, in a voice of deep emotion. 

Touched to the heart by the tone and manner of her husband, 
Mildred sprang from the couch, and laid her trembling hand on 
his arm. He turned from her indignantly. 

“ Lord Alresford, hear me ! ” said she, in a voice tremulous with 
anguish. “ However it may appear to you, I solemnly declare 
that my manner and language to Colonel Sutherland have been 
expressive of the contempt and disgust l now feel for his conduct 
and character. If I have sought his society since ray marriage, it 
has been from other motives than those you attribute.” 

Lord Alresford turned sharply, sternly towards her. 

“ What motives, then, Lady Alresford? As you value — what 
you ought to prize most in the world — your reputation, speak 
unreservedly! What can your motives have been?” and he 
seized her hands, and gazed steadfastly in her face. 

“ Colonel Sutherland, the day I met him at Nethercote, inso- 
lently displayed a ring obtained from me soon after the commence- 
ment of our acquaintance, and to which he alludes in his letter. 
L went yesterday evening to receive it back again, in accordance 
with his promise to restore it at Mrs St. Priest’s concert,” replied 
Mildred, faintly, leaning for support against the wiudow-seat. 

“ Would that I could place implicit trust in your word ; but 
you have so often deceived me ! If your intentions were what you 
state, why did you conceal from me the purport of your visit last 
night? Why did you not confide in me, instead of carrying on a 
series of systematic deceits? Oh, Mildred! I would barter all 
your personal gifts in exchange for truth and sincerity of char- 
acter.” 

Poor Mildred cowered under the stern rebuke. She clasped hei 
hands despairingly together. 

“ Believe me, my lord, my visit last night had no other object, 
no other motive,” burst falteringly from her quivering lips. 

“And what is this ring, to which you attach such overpowering 
importance ? ” asked the Earl, sternly and dryly. 

For one moment the hope of so framing her answer as to evade 
the query, shot through Mildred’s brain. She raised her eyes to 
her husband’s face, and therein she read the futility of such an 
effort ; there was nothing for it but a straightforward reply. 

“ You cannot blame and despise me, Lord Alresford, more thor- 
oughly than I condemn myself, when you learn that the ring I 
heedlessly suffered Colonel Sutherland to appropriate was the one 
you placed on my finger before your first departure for Italy,” said 
she, in very low tones, while her cheek burned. 


riQUE. 


241 


“ And this yon had not courage and rectitude of purpose to 
avow ! Sooner than trust to your husband, and confidently rely 
on his indulgence, if not on his affection, you preferred involving 
yourself in the crooked mazes of intrigue ! Not content with doing 
me an injury such as few men would listen to without overwhelm- 
ing you with the keenest reproach, you have inflicted a double 
pang! Answer me, Lady Alresford! was it needful, in order to 
deceive me, and obtain back again the ring so faithlessly relin- 
quished, that your conduct yesterday evening towards Colonel 
Sutherland should have been such as to empower your enemies to 
write and insinuate what they have dared to in yonder paper? ” 

“ No, Lord Alresford, I have never swerved in thought, word, 
or deed, from the fidelity I owe you — never ! I went to Mrs. St. 
Priest’s ; in that alone have I erred ; upon no other terms, I was 
told, could I obtain the ring. I trembled to lose the small rem- 
nant of esteem which I was sensible you still bestowed upon me. 
God is my witness, that my actions deserve not the construction 
insidiously put upon them. But you will not believe me, Lord 
Alresford ! I am miserable — oh, very miserable ! ” exclaimed she, 
desperately ; her words in low hurried accents burst from her lips, 
and she buried her face in her hands, while large tears dropped 
slowly from between her fingers. 

“ Mildred, do you not remember how once before you made sim- 
ilar protestations ? I then believed your assurance that your inti- 
macy with Colonel Sutherland was over, and that your heart never 
had any share in the outward preference with which you distin- 
guished him. On this faith I made you my wife. From that mo- 
ment to this, what has your conduct towards me been, but a tissue of 
heartless inconsistencies ? How have you repaid the unexampled 
indulgence I have invariably manifested towards you ? Have you 
even given me that confidence I asked ? still less, during the past 
three months, have you essayed to diminish the distance your incon- 
stancy placed between us, or to perform one single iota of those 
duties you voluntarily engaged to undertake ? ” exclaimed the Earl, 
passionately. “ I know, however, that our affections are not always 
controllable,” continued he, more calmly ; “ therefore, Mildred, as 
long as your conduct deserves it, you shall find me no tyrannical 
master. No particle of reproach shall, however, rest on the fame 
of her who bears my name. Nay, Lady Alresford, this agitation 
is uncalled for,” added the Earl. “ Compose yourself, and let me 
learn what more passed in your interview with Colonel Sutherland. 
Ah, Mildred ! did I not justly tell you on Wednesday his words 
were then such as you dare not recount to your husband? ” 

21 


242 


PIQUE. 


A wild, mingled throb of hope and joy flattered at Mildred's 
heart, during her husband’s address ; and more than once was she 
tempted to lay before him its most secret promptings. Her love 
burned brightly as ever ; but at this moment, when she looked at 
the Earl, and saw the slouded brow, and the stern, sad smile which 
curled his lip, her courage died within her. Procrastination ever 
builds up new and more insurmountable barriers to close the patl£ 
of uprightness ; and now she dreaded, and justly, that her confes- 
sion would bear the semblance of hypocrisy. She rose hastily, 
drank a glass of water standing on a table near her, and then, in 
low, hurried words, she poured forth the history of her several 
interviews with Colonel Sutherland. Lord Alresford listened 
attentively to her recital, and a deeper gloom seemed to settle on 
his handsome features. 

“ A little more, Lady Alresford, and we had ceased to reside 
under the same roof,” at length, said he, in deep, constrained tones. 
“ Ah, Mildred, why do I not find you the fair vision imagination 
pictured ! ” 

She buried her head amongst the pillows of the sofa. Low sobs 
shook her frame. Lord Alresford leaned silently against the win- 
dow. Presently she started to her feet. 

“ Lord Alresford, do you hate me? Do you cast me away from 
you forever? Will not the expression of the deepest, the sincerest 
contrition for the violation of my promise, soften your resentment ? ” 
exclaimed she, vehemently. 

The scarlet flushing of her cheek, and the despair which glared 
in her beautiful eyes, alarmed the Earl. He hastened to her 
side. 

“ This excitement is destroying you, Mildred. For your own 
sake, for mine, be calm. Be assured, I bear you no resentment. 
Deep sorrow, that I have been the means of dooming you to a des- 
tiny apparently so uncongenial to your sympathies and sentiments;, 
is the only feeling which now actuates me. Your visible aliena- 
tion tells me what you must daily suffer, even had I not a more 
silent monitor within my own bosom. I will be patient with you, Mil- 
dred, fear not ; only make me again this one solemn promise, never 
more to hold the slightest communication with Colonel Sutherland. 
Believe me, it is more for for your own sake than mine, that I 
exact the pledge.” 

She raised her eyes to his face ; their anguished expression fled, 
and tears rolled like dew-drops over her hot, flushed cheeks. Her 
hand, which he had gently ' taken, still lingered in his. She 
silently bowed her head, and pressed her soft lips on his hand. 


PIQUE. 


245 


“ You will surely give me this promise, Mildred?” said the 
Earl, withdrawing his hand, and hastily turning away. 

“ Yes, most solemnly, Lord Alresford. Believe me, I shall 
never, never even in thought, be tempted to violate it,” said she, 
emphatically. 

“ Beware, Mildred, what you promise ! Perhaps, the fortitude 
to control your thoughts may be less easily obtainable than the 
self-command requisite to follow a prescribed line of action,” replied 
the Earl, gazing sorrowfully upon her. 

She was meditating on his words, and did not reply. 

“ One question more,” said the Earl ; “ what course did you 
propose to adopt with regard to the paragraph forwarded to you 
this morning ? ” 

She hesitated ; all before had been blank, agonizing remorse ; 
she had formed no settled plan, and so she confessed. 

“ Lady Elvaston shall be spared the pain of this expose. I will 
take upon myself to promise you so much, therefore be under no 
further alarm,” said Lord Alresford, gathering up the letters from 
the table. “ And now, farewell; you shall hear from me again in 
the course of the day ; and God grant this may be the last inter- 
view of so painful a nature that is ever to pass between us ! ” and 
the Earl quitted the room. 

A deep sigh escaped Mildred’s lips, as she fell back on the sofa. 
An inexpressible feeling of relief, however, mingled with the poig- 
nant anxiety which still preyed upon her. She walked to the win- 
dow, and breathed deeply of the soft, invigorating breeze, which 
played and lightly coquetted amid her long, dishevelled ringlets. 
A sensation of insupportable languor stole gently over her. Her 
mental faculties so long on the strain seemed suddenly to yield ; 
and completely exhausted by the agitation of the last two days, 
she threw herself again on the couch. Soon she slept. 

With her small hands folded on her bosom she reposed ; though 
still traces of mental disquietude appeared to haunt her dreams ; 
for every now and then the pale brow contracted painfully, and a 
slurp, convulsive movement agitated her beautiful features. Her 
eyelids were heavy, and swelled from excess of weeping, and their 
long, jetty lashes reposed on a cheek whose crimson richness, as 
she slumbered, faded gradually away. Spent by continual watch- 
ing she slept thus for some hours ; nor did she awake until the 
warm, cheering rays of the afternoon sun, beaming full on her 
face, caused her to start up and gaze around. Soon she perceived 
that some one had entered the room during her sleep ; the window 
was closed, a heavy shawl had been carefully flung over her, and 


244 


PIQUE. 


on a small stand near tlie sofa was a packet addressed to herself. 
She hurriedly stretched out her hand and took it. On the enve- 
lope were a few pencilled words to the following purport, in Lord 
Alresford’s handwriting : — 

“I have enclosed you the whole of your correspondence with 
Mrs. St. Priest. The paragraph intended for the Stanmore and 
Avington papers is suppressed. I have also the ring in my pos- 
session, which, for obvious reasons, I retain.” 

Mildred opened the envelope, and found all the notes she had 
ever written to Mrs. St. Priest duly enclosed ; also several copies 
of the malicious paragraph. She reflected a moment, and presently 
rising laid the papers in a heap within the fender ; then lighting 
a taper she applied the flame to the letters. Motionless she stood 
watching the gyrations of thin gray smoke as it gently curled 
upwards, until every particle of paper was consumed. Then she 
folded her shawl tightly across her figure, and descended the steps 
into her garden. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

The dark spot had spread. Mildred’s destiny, which to all the 
world seemed so fair, was distasteful, insupportable to herself. 
Her spirit wrestled within her, and during the succeeding few 
days she sedulously sought peace, and found it not. Her solitary 
hours were spent in dreamy reverie, in which her own misdeeds 
and the glowing figure of Lady Catherine occupied the most promi- 
nent points ; or in wild restless longings for the happiness she had 
so recklessly thrown from her. An unappeasable desire now pos- 
sessed her to perform at least all those outward duties of her high 
rank and new position, which conscience smote her with having 
hitherto neglected. In her indulgence of a species of listless isolation, 
she knew she had left undone much that the Earl might, indeed, 
justly complain of. Keenly sensible of her false position in his 
house, she shrunk from assuming her proper place as mistress of 
Ihe mansion. An indescribable feeling of confusion overwhelmed 
her if detected by him in the performance of anything inseparably 
connected with this position. She would then turn indifferently 
aside and make some casual observation, haunted by the foolish 


PIQUE. 


245 


fear lest her husband might construe her officiousness into tacit 
reproach for his cold disregard. Every passing shadow on his 
brow she persisted in attributing to regret that he had made her 
his wife ; and miserable and irresolute, feeling the intolerable bur- 
den of perpetually dissembling, she at length shunned his society 
as much as was in her power. 

But Mildred, in the depths of her self-communings, determined 
it should be so no longer. If his love was irretrievably lost, she 
would win now his esteem and respect ; and her future position, if 
not that of his loved wife, should be at least that of his companion 
and friend ; she would give him at length what he had so long 
fruitlessly sought — her confidence on all subjects, save one. But 
how was she to set about it ? She had so long delayed, that diffi- 
culties multiplied around her, while she little dreamed how hard 
and thorny procrastination renders the path of duty. Her past 
irresolutions and indulgence of her craving for solitude, contributed 
greatly in augmenting the obstacles in her way ; for thereby she 
had lost that invaluable knowledge and insight into her husband’s 
character, which now would have been a beacon and sure guide in 
her future operations. This latter knowledge Mildred had yet to 
acquire, and with knitted brow and perplexed air she sat pondering 
how these things might be. 

Lady Alresford’s character had been hitherto, save in a few rare 
cases, one essentially irresolute. Like the ivy, which, with all its 
grace and luxuriance, requires a firmer prop than its own tender 
branches yield, so she needed the help and counsel of one endowed 
with stronger determination than herself — one to whom she could 
pour forth her grievances, and in return reap encouragement and 
solace. Hence the secret of Helen Campbell’s influence ; deprived 
of this dear friend, Mildred’s spirit drooped for lack of sympathy. 
Her imagination wandered now among all her new acquaintances 
for one who could partially supply Helen’s place, and whisper in 
her ear words of affectionate ad vice. All at once her eye bright- 
ened ; for the soft, calm, intellectual face of Lady Emily Baynton 
rose before her mental vision. Indifferent as to the good or bad 
opinion of her neighbors, Mildred had as yet taken little pains to 
conciliate them ; and since her marriage she had only paid two 
visits at the Chauntry ; but she resolved without delay to drive 
thither that very afternoon, and if she found Lady Emily amiable 
and propitious, as fancy inwardly predicted, consult her on her 
future course. While Mildred sat thus immersed in these hopeful 
cogitations, the luncheon bell rang ; and faithful to her new reso- 
lutions, she ietermined upon descending and joining the Earl in 
21 * 


246 


PIQUE. 


that meal, instead of partaking of it alone in her boudoir, as had 
latterly been her habit. 

Lord Alresford appeared surprised and pleased at her appear- 
ance ; especially as she exerted herself more successfully than 
usual to be agreeable. 

“ I wish to call upon Lady Emily Baynton to-day. Have you 
any objection, Lord Alresford ? ” said she, with some hesitation, 
when she arose from the table. 

“Not the slightest, Mildred, to your going to the Chauntry; 
though I have a very serious objection to your asking my permis- 
sion in that very unique style,” said the Earl, laughingly. “ If 
you like, I will ride with you there ; I want to speak to Baynton.” 

She paused ; the Earl’s presence would, perhaps, prevent the 
conversation in which her future plans were to be unfolded to 
Lady Emily’s scrutiny, and she had quite set her heart on the 
interview. 

“I see you would rather go alone, Mildred, so I will order the 
open carriage to be at the door in twenty minutes.” 

In a second his manner recalled her to herself. 

“ No. indeed, I shall enjoy the expedition much more if you will 
accompany me ; and the ride, infinitely better than a sober airing 
in the carriage ; so I will go and put on my habit,” replied she, 
quickly. 

And in half an hour they were riding side by side along green 
shady lanes, enjoying the breeze which gently swayed the spread- 
ing branches, and scattered here and there small handfuls of 
leaves, first tributes of the approaching autumnal season. They 
rode slowly along ; the day was so fine, that Mildred threw back 
her veil, for there was freshness and exhilaration in the soft wind, 
as it fanned her brow. 

“ Mildred, why did you hesitate, when I proposed to ride with 
you this afternoon?” said Lord Alresford, after a long pause, 
checking his horse, and bringing it closer to hers. 

It was a difficult question. The Earl patiently awaited her 
reply. 

“ You are a keen confessor, Lord Alresford,” replied she, at 
length, unable to restrain a laugh. “Perhaps you will consider 
my reply more frank than courteous, when I candidly avow that I 
was debating, as I fully intend to monopolize Lady Emily all to 
myself, whether I might not perchance find your lordship in the 
way.” 

“ Oh,” replied the Earl, in rather a dissatisfied tone, giving rein 
to his horse. 


PIQUE. 


247 


Mildred remembered the Earl’s disapproval of female confidants 
and smiled. 

They rode on in silence for a quarter of a mile or more, until 
they came in sight of the picturesque little village of Weldon, 
nestling at the side of a hill ; its clean white cottages, with their 
trellissed fronts glittering in the sun, all thrown out in strong 
relief by the magnificent woods already sprinkled by autumnal 
tints, which clothed the rising grounds behind. 

“ Here come Mrs St Priest and Colonel Sutherland, or I am 
much mistaken, Mildred,” said Lord Alresford, as the widow’s low 
carriage whirled round from a distant turn on the road, and the 
sharp clicking trot of her well-trained piebalds soon was heard. 

Lady Alresford made no reply, and though the color mounted 
to her cheek, she looked steadily before her, and when the phaeton 
passed, deliberately turned away her beautiful face. Lord Alres- 
ford, however, felt himself compelled to make some acknowledgment 
of the salute wafted towards him by the widow’s fairy fingers. As 
for Colonel Sutherland, a dark, angry frown hung on his brow ; 
but, as he thought fit to imitate Lady Alresford, and sedulously 
turn aside his head, the Earl was spared all annoyance on his 
account. As soon as the carriage had fairly passed, Mildred 
turned, and stole a furtive glance at her husband. Their eyes 
met; he had been intently regarding her ; the subject, however, 
was too sore a one to be safely broached, and so they rode on in 
silence, until they arrived at the door of Sir Gerard’s mansion. 
He was loitering in the hall, and instantly flew to greet them. 

“ My mother will be delighted to see you, Lady Alresford; it 
was only the other day she was complaining that you so very 
seldom included the Chauntry in your rides,” said Sir Gerard, 
good humoredly, as he helped Mildred from her horse ; and giving 
her his arm he led her to his mother’s room, followed by Lord 
Alresford. 

When they entered, Lady Emily was sitting at her writing- 
table. She instantly arose, and gave Mildred so warm a welcome 
— one more cordial than any she had received since her sojourn 
in this land of strangers — that, involuntarily, tears rushed to her 
eyes. She gazed admiringly on Lady Emily’s striking dignity of 
manner, tempered by her sweet smile and soft voice ; on the 
expression of profound repose which lingered in her thoughtful 
eyes, and sat on her brow, betokening that for her the world, its 
passions and stern conflicts, had passed away, merged in the glori- 
ous hope of an hereafter, bright, unfading, and eternal. Everything 
in the room evinced the benevolent activity and occupation of its 


248 


PIQUE. 


owner ; and Mildred felt absolutely ashamed, as she compared her 
own deeds with those, the outward evidence of which surrounded 
her on all sides. Yet Lady Emily possessed as refined a taste, and 
from her youth upwards had been surrounded with the same 
elegances, and lived as much in their daily appreciation and 
enjoyment, as Lady Alresford did. How she combined the two, 
Mildred was anxious to learn ; and it was with feelings of real 
satisfaction that, some half hour after their arrival, she saw Sir 
Gerard (who, since his return from the Priory, considered himself 
a farmer of the first order), carry off the Earl to inspect a won- 
drous field of Swedish turnips, which, in his opinion, had claim to 
precedence over all other crops in the neighborhood. 

When the gentlemen left. Lady Emily took her work and seated 
herself near the window. The garden lay on the other side of the 
mansion, and the first trees of a noble avenue stretching far away 
into the park, grew within a hundred yards of the window; while 
the sunbeams, as they pierced the thick leafy canopy overhead, 
chequered the grass with a thousand fitful fantastic lights. The 
rapid query — would this ever be Helen’s abode ? darted through 
Mildred’s mind — and she thought how much she should like to 
aid her in acquiring so beautiful a home. She glanced at Lady 
Emily, and decided that a daughter with Helen’s calm, reflective 
disposition would suit her admirably. Presently her voice sounded 
again like music on Mildred’s ear ; Lady Emily talked of duties 
and responsibilities which the cherished, indulged heiress had 
never heard of before. Soon Mildred became absorbed ; new lights 
seemed to burst with beautiful brilliancy over her spirit, and she 
comprehended in part what it was her husband found so deficient 
in her character; perceived, in short, that life had stern duties, 
stern realities, even for the rich and exalted ; and that for them 
also it was but a bubble — glittering, indeed, with the brilliant 
rays of the prism — which must one day burst and fall to the 
earth, dissolved in the common element, undistinguishable and 
undistinguished. Mildred listened ; her earnest enthusiastic 
nature was roused ; and when Lady Emily turned to talk on lighter 
subjects, she could scarce control her impatience. 

“ I wish Helen Campbell could hear you converse on these 
things, Lady Emily. It is wonderful how her sentiments corre- 
spond with yours ; though I know not how it is, her words never 
fell upon me with the convincing power of yours,” said Mildred, 
musingly. 

“ Probably, my dear Lady Alresford, you did not then feel, or 
see their necessity. A wider career has since opened upon you. 


PIQUE. 


24P 


and you have begun to meditate ; to think that so much has not 
been bestowed upon you for your own selfish enjoyment, while 
numbers, equal with yourself in the eye of God, lack even bread. 
But I should much like to renew my acquaintance with Helen 
Campbell. I suspect she has stolen away from me a large share 
of my son’s heart,” continued Lady Emily, with a quiet smile. 
“ Boor Gerard, in his hasty impulsive manner, was frantic for me 
to invite her here immediately ; but I thought it more prudent, as 
she was sure to visit you, to defer my invitation until I had 
obtained some insight into her character. Mrs. Campbell had no 
remarkable talent, save that of a good managing housewife ; and 
I am often puzzled to divine how her daughter became possessed 
of such uncommon qualifications.” 

“Helen Campbell is a pearl — a treasure, Lady Emily! A 
girl with a right noble spirit ; firm, without harshness or obstinacy ; 
loving, without weakness, yet unchangeable ! Before my marriage, 
she was a greater comfort to me than I can express. Yes; and 
many, many bitter hours would have since been spared me, had I 
followed her advice,” said Mildred, pausing, while a shade of sad- 
ness swept over her face. “ Lady Emily, has Sir Gerard ever 
related to you any passages gleaned from the history of the 
few weeks intervening between Lord Alresford’s return and our 
marriage ? ” 

“ My son is the very reverse of communicative on such matters, 
Lady Alresford,” replied Lady Emily, reservedly. 

“Nay, dear Lady Emily, pray be frank with me. Away from 
my mother, and all my early friends, I feel greatly the need of 
advice ; and, as I sincerely hope you will bestow upon me some of 
the benefit of your experience, I shall indeed be glad if Sir Gerard 
has hinted to you the lamentable misunderstanding which has ever 
since poisoned my peace ; ” and Mildred raised her eyes imploringly 
to Lady Emily’s face. 

“ Gerard has alluded once or twice, I believe, to some misun- 
derstanding relative, I think, to Cclonel Sutherland. Am I not 
right, my dear Lady Alresford ? ” asked Lady Emily, with 
considerable hesitation. 

“ Quite right ; but oh ! Lady Emily, what I shall eternally 
reproach myself with is, that from a mere shadow, a passing cloud, 
I suffered that affair, by capricious frivolity, to gather and thicken, 
until now it has settled round me in dark, hopeless gloom.” 

There was deep pity in Lady Emily's thoughtful eyes, as she 
gaxed upon the fair, young brow so anxiously raised. 

« Do not speak thus, Lady Alresford. There may have bo*n 


250 


PIQUE. 


much of youthful error, much of indecision in your past career ; 
but all this your husband tacitly obliterated from his memory in 
making you his wife. Persevere in the course pleasing to him ; it 
can but be the right one ; and then, of all women in the world, I 
should think Lord Alresford’s wife the happiest.” 

Mildred mournfully shook her head. 

“She might be the happiest. But, Lady Emily, if it will not 
weary you, I will recount my history during the past two months ; ” 
and without circumlocution, or an attempt to justify herself, Mil- 
dred ingenuously related her late adventure with Colonel Sutherland 
and Mrs. St. Priest. 

“ This is a very painful history, my dear Lady Alresford, and 
I sincerely hope you will never forget the stern lesson it incul- 
cates,” replied Lady Emily, gravely, after a moment’s pause. 
“ You request my advice ; 1 recommend — remembering you have 
been throughout essentially in the wrong, and your husband right 
— that you should plainly testify your regret for the past, and 
your appreciation of his forbearance. Mind, I do not advocate any 
humiliating concessions ; but to a man of your husband’s proud 
and somewhat reserved disposition, think how peculiarly galling 
your conduct must have been ; therefore, it is both your duty and 
interest to allay the irritation which must naturally exist in his 
mind. Above all, Lady Alresford, never attempt, in the most 
remote dtgree, to repeat the dangerous experiment ; for, trust me, 
no man whose affection is worth having can ever be piqued into an 
avowal of it.” 

“ This is true, very true ; but I am sorely perplexed how to act 
upon your advice,” exclaimed Mildred, with a puzzled look. 

“ Let u3 see and reason upon it a little, my dear Lady Alresford. 
I always like to penetrate to the bottom of difficulties. In the 
first place, I am sure, however you may have hitherto concealed it 
from yourself, that you love your husband.” 

Mildred raised her clear eyes to Lady Emily’s face. 

“ That eloquent glance, my dear, tells me you do, and in no 
common degree,” resumed her kind friend ; “ and therefore, I am 
sure you cannot wish this miserable alienation to continue. Y »u 
must begin by throwing off all restraint in your intercourse with 
your husband ; assume your proper place in your mutual home ; 
and be assured in due time reconciliation and happiness will fol- 
low. I know that timidity, which people always experience when 
they feel themselves compelled to act in opposition to what is sup- 
posed their deliberate choice, will prove a hindrance ; but that 
must be overcome. In short, my dear, as you seem to have exerted 


PIQUE. 


251 


unwearied pains and ingenuity to induce the Earl to think you do 
not love him, so now you must labor as industriously to make him 
disbelieve it again as quickly as you can,” added Lady Emily, 
with a smile. 

“ But will he not naturally suspect me of hypocris}’, even if 
Lord Alresford has not now quite given up all desire of being 
beloved ? ” replied Mildred, thoughtfully. 

“ Not desire it ! What can you mean, dear Lady Alresford ? 
You have selected me as your physician ; and, therefore, must 
excuse me if I probe my patient’s wound a little deeper.” 

“You know, Lady Emily, I was betrothed to my husband when 
a mere child. Now, even in your wisdom, do you not see the pos- 
sibility of Lord Alresford’s heart having unconsciously wandered 
elsewhere, though his honor forbade him to shrink from his engage- 
ment to me ? ” said Lady Alresford, hesitatingly, tears swimming 
in her eyes. 

Lady Emily’s piercing glance rested on Mildred’s face with 
earnest scrutiny. 

“No, I do not think it at all possible, my dear.” 

“ And yet Lord Alresford was constantly in the society of Lady 
Catherine Neville,” murmured Mildred, timidly. 

“Who could have put this ridiculous idea into your head, my 
dear Lady Alresford ? ” 

“ I do not know ; though I understand the news of Lord Alres- 
ford’s marriage created unmitigated astonishment throughout the 
neighborhood. Was not this the case, Lady Emily ? ” 

“ N o astonishment was ever expressed in my presence, and I 
doubt very much that it was pretended by any one ; save, perhaps, 
by Mrs. St. Priest, and her clique in the neighborhood. I do not 
believe Lord Alresford ever had the most fleeting desire to make 
Lady Catherine his wife ; nay, I feel convinced he never had,” 
replied Lady Emily, very decisively. 

Mildred felt more reassured by Lady Emily’s prompt tones than 
she had done for months. 

“ You will ponder over my advice, and come and see me again 
soon,” said Lady Emily, kindly; taking her hand as the gentle- 
men, returning from their walk, advanced leisurely up the avenue ; 
“ nay, more, Lady Alresford, try my prescription, and then I dare 
even hope you will return to your physician with half your cur.e 
accomplished.” 

Mildred warmly pressed her hand, and a smile of hope circled 
her beautiful mouth, as she arose and resumed her hat and gloves. 

“ How long will it be before your friend Miss Campbell delights 


252 


PIQUE. 


us with her presence ? ” asked Sir Gerard, as some quarter of an 
hour afterwards he placed the bridle of her horse in Lady Alresford’s 
hands, and bade her farewell. 

“ Oh, I hope in a few weeks — a fortnight or so, perhaps. I 
shall certainly plead your anxiety, Sir Gerard, to hasten her move- 
ments,’’ replied Mildred, laughing. 

“ Baynton appears quite captivated with Miss Campbell. I 
never saw him so taken with any girl before,” said Lord Alresford, 
as they slowly rode down the avenue. 

“Yes; when Helen visits Amesbury I should not be at all 
surprised were he to propose to her,” rejoined Mildred. 

“ I should regret very much if he did, notwithstanding all Miss 
Campbell’s fine qualities. Unequal marriages are seldom produc- 
tive of happiness ; and I certainly do not consider Helen Campbell 
a suitable match for my friend Baynton,” replied the Earl. 

Mildred, though provoked at this attack on her friend’s eligi- 
bility to become the wife of Sir Gerard, made no reply to the 
Earl’s observation, and the greater part of their ride home passed 
in mutual silence. Mildred, absorbed in Lady Emily’s counsel, 
found therein abundant material to build innumerable fairy cas- 
tles ; forgetful that, however much we may find it necessary to 
revolve the future, if we wish prosperity to our schemes, the pres- 
ent also must be diligently and carefully improved. 

The result of Mildred’s cogitations, nevertheless, was not so 
entirely devoid of immediate benefit as this last observation would 
seem to imply. Determined at once to enter upon her grand pro- 
ject of reform, she made her appearance just one quarter of an 
hour before dinner was announced ; nor did she rise from table, as 
had been her usual custom, a few minutes after dessert was placed 
thereon ; and when Lord Alresford entered the drawing-room, it 
was from the fair hands of his bride that he received his cup of 
coffee. She then took her work-basket, and drawing a sofa near 
to the table, seated herself with the composed air of one deter- 
mined to make herself comfortable for a long evening. Not that 
Mildred felt auy very remarkable degree of composure ; far from 
it ; for though a pleasant smile beamed on her face, she was sensi- 
ble of a very uncomfortable feeling at heart. As for Lord Alres- 
ford, finding his wife in a more accessible humor than ordinary, he 
did not propose to while away the evening with a book, but seated 
himself by her side. For about three quarters of an hour or more 
they conversed, and Mildred felt that she enjoyed more even this 
restrained intercourse than her solitary boudoir musings. Pres- 
ently the clock struck ten ; she started — so rapidly had time fled 


PIQUE. 


253 


and yet she had not taken the first step in the new character she 
had resolved to assume. She had yet made no overture at recon- 
ciliation since the morning the Earl quitted her presence in anger ; 
and until this was done — until there existed a perfect understand- 
ing between them both, that the past was forgiven — she felt it 
almost hopeless to enter upon her task of conciliation. But to 
plunge into the mazes of this almost forbidden ground inquired no 
small portion of moral courage ; therefore, poor Mildred’s spirits 
suddenly became subdued, and her eyes were more studiously bent 
upon the group of glowing pomegranates she was working. Lord 
Alresford made no remark on her sudden abstraction ; perhaps 
concluding that one of her variable moods was fast clouding over. 
Her long, glossy ringlets hung low, and veiled her face, or, per- 
haps, he might have divined, from the varying hue of her cheek, 
that some unusual emotion agitated her. Her fair head drooped 
still lower over the canvas as she spoke. 

“ Are you still displeased with me, Lord Alresford ? Have you 
forgiven the pain my thoughtlessness inflicted last week?” she 
asked, after a long silence, in very low tones, slightly glancing 
towards him. 

A short pause ensued. She continued working nervously. 

“ Do you ask this, Mildred, because you think it a necessary 
duty, or is it that you really value my forgiveness?” said Lord 
Alresford, earnestly. 

“I say it, because it grieves me to have incurred your just dis- 
pleasure ; but believe me, Lord Alresford, I am deeply, deeply 
grateful for all you have done for me ; and above all, for your for- 
bearance, which so surpassed my deserts,” replied Mildred, her 
voice faltering the least in the world. 

“ Put down your work then, Mildred, and listen to me,” said 
the Earl, taking the canvas from her hands ; she relinquished it 
without an effort. “Now, Mildred, I am going to appeal to your 
reason, to your sense of propriety,” resumed Lord Alresford ; “ in 
the eye of God, in the eye of man, you are my wife, and in volun- 
tarily consenting to take that position, you incurred a vast load ol 
responsibility ; new duties unfolded themselves to you ; in a more 
special manner your example is looked dp to, by your equals as 
well as those placed beneath you. Now, I would ask, is it fitting 
that this responsibility should remain longer disregarded by you, or 
that to o ir whole household, the spectacle of our alienation in heart 
and deed should be daily exhibited? ” 

v You are right, Lord Alresford, I see my error. Believe me, 
however, my solitary meditations have not been profitless ; and 
22 


254 


PIQUE. 


from henceforth I will try to be all you can desire/’ replied Mildred, 
sorrowfully. 

14 Will you do so ? Will you, indeed, become my companion, 
dear Mildred, and sometimes also show me a glimpse of your 
heart ? Let me read its language, and then confess if my inter- 
pretation be right?” 

A smile of assent trembled on her lips. 

.“If you faithfully perform this; and, moreover, give me that 
confidence I have hitherto so vainly asked, Mildred ; and consult 
me, and only me, in every future difficulty, I promise you I will 
never more reproach you ; 1 will forget the past,” said the *Earl, 
taking her hand. 

Involuntarily her little fingers closed over his. 

“ I will engage to do all this, Lord Alresford ; you shall never 
more find me ungrateful, insensible to your goodness, or heedless 
of your remonstrance. Mine has been too bitter a lesson to need 
repetition. Am I then forgiven?” exclaimed she, while tears 
dropped from her eyes, and she turned her flushed, agitated face 
towards him. 

“Can you doubt it for a moment? Oh, Mildred, how many 
heart-burnings would have been spared us, had you possessed reso- 
lution to confide in me, after your first interview with that unprin- 
cipled man at Nethercote ! ” said Lord Alresford, as he threw his 
arm around her. 

Her head sank on his bosom. 

“ Tell me, assure me again, Mildred, that Colonel Sutherland 
never possessed your heart.” 

“ He never did — never! ” murmured she. 

For one instant, with happiness unspeakable filling her heart, 
she rested in his arm ; the next moment she started hurriedly 
away ; the dark shadow of her evil genius — pique — again inter- 
posed, and her spirit quailed beneath its baneful influence. 

In her hasty movement, a small gold chain on her neck became 
accidentally entangled round one the buttons of the Earl’s coat. 
Pride, in the twinkling of an eye, suggested the unworthy thought, 
that he might construe this accident into an artful device and lure. 
In an instant she snatched it away, and the slender chain fell to 
the ground. She turned away, however, and busied herself in 
collecting into her basket the scattered wools on the table. Her 
hand trembled ; the more so as she felt that Lord Alresford’s eyes 
were riveted upon her. She shrank under his steady scrutiny, 
and unable longer to endure the ordeal, she hurriedly traversed 
the room, and opening the piano, sat down before it. Her voice 


PIQUE. 


255 


faltered, and soon she found the impossibility of articulating a 
word. Again she rose, and making some unintelligible apoiogy to 
her husband, who still lounged with perturbed brow where she had 
left him, she fled the apartment. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

“Where are you going, my dear? ” asked Mrs. Otway, about 
eleven o’clock one fine morning, as Lady Catherine entered the 
sitting-room, attired for a walk. 

“ First to the gardener’s lodge, to inquire how Brown’s sick 
child passed the night ; and then on to Moreton, to take Maude 
this lovely bouquet of damask roses; the last, I fear, of the 
season.” 

“ Well, my dear Catherine, you certainly are the best judge how 
far your health can stand the excessive fatigue of the long walks 
you persist in taking day after day. /do not consider it an advis- 
able system ; and, forgive me my dear, neither do I think it 
becomes a young lady of your rank to rove about miles away from 
home, without the attendance of her maid.” 

“ I should only find Wilmot in my way ; and she, I know, 
would dislike excessively being dragged from her usual routine of 
business; so, my dear Mrs. Otway, tell me why should I both 
bore her and myself? I will take Sappho as a guard,” replied 
Lady Catherine. 

“ I don’t know, I am sure, Catherine. I only wish you would 
give up these walks, and be more like what you used to bel 
There is, my dear, something so false and hollow in the existence 
you now lead, that it perfectly shocks me to reflect upon it,” con- 
tinued Mrs. Otway, growing eloquent. “ Everything you once 
liked now seems insipid ; your music, your drawing, your books, 
your friends, have lost their attraction ! I am sure I heartily wish 
Frederic Randolph had been far enough off before he ever crossed 
our path. Ah, there she goes,” soliloquized the old lady to herself, 
looking sorrowfully after her pupil, who lightly blowing a kiss and 
shaking her head, stepped out on the terrace, “ with her sweet, 
pale brow and pretty smile, just as if she would try to make me 
believe there was nothing the matter. Courtship is come to a 
pretty pass in these days, truly ; yet people talk of new ways 


256 


PIQUE. 


being better than old ones. I wonder what that angel in heaven. 
Lady Willingham, would say, if she could only behold that deal 
child’s distress!” and kind Mrs. Otway, overpowered by her 
feelings, turned silently to her beloved knitting for consolation. 

Meanwhile, the object of her solicitude, after paying her visit at 
the gardener’s lodge, walked quietly on towards Moreton Place. 
Lady Catherine, we have before said, had a mind essentially ener- 
getic. Though sorely smitten, she was not crushed under the blow 
which had robbed her of peace. She knew that the best antidote 
to the ravages of silent grief is unceasing activity, bodily and 
mental ; and this hard discipline she at once embraced. True, as 
Mrs. Otway asserted, though she had lost all relish in the things 
which once constituted the charm of her life, she read, she drew, 
she practised music with unceasing perseverance ; and when all 
this was duly accomplished, her greatest luxury was to roam alone 
in the depths of her beautiful woods ; yet even then she struggled 
nobly and bravely to control her thoughts, knowing that to be per- 
petually brooding over misfortune does but aggravate its real evil, 
by suggesting to the restless mind dire forebodings of future ills, 
which, after all, may never be realized. Her cheek was pale, yet 
did she not, in a spirit of murmuring discontent, disdain to cull 
the humbler flowers which still grew even under the cloudy atmos- 
phere of trial and disappointment; sustained, perhaps, in her 
struggles with * herself by the still reviving influences of Hope ; 
that precious boon an Allwise Providence has decreed shall animate 
the breast of even the most miserable. 

She walked on, reasoning and communing with herself — for 
none could share and alleviate her burden — steeling her heart to 
submit courageously to the stern discipline of life. Sappho bounded 
before her, snuffing the air eagerly, now rolling on the cool turf, or 
scrambling in the hedge bottoms and adjacent spinnies after some 
unfortunate hare or rabbit ; then after a short headlong chase to 
the extent of the meadow, returning frisking and frolicking around 
her mistress, rubbing her huge head against her gown, and doing 
all she could to ask for a gentle caress in reward of her prowess. 
As Lady Catherine reached the small gate from the meadows into 
the gardens at Moreton, a travelling carriage drove swiftly from 
the porch of the mansion ; and thinking it might possibly be Lord 
Normanton who had just taken his departure, she lingered awhile, 
unwilling immediately to intrude on his mother and sisters. Lady 
Norman ton having a perfect horror of large dogs, Sappho was left 
outside the little gate ; while Lady Catherine, after a stroll round 
the flower garden, ent red the house, and, being on terms of close 


PIQUE. 


257 


futimacy with the family, proceeded at once to the morning-room. 
As she opened the door, a sharp, hysterical sob, and the sound of 
Johnson’s voice in earnest expostulation, broke on her ear ; but 
often as Lady Catherine had been initiated into the peculiar sus- 
ceptibilities of Lady Normanton’s nerves, she certainly was not 
prepared for the scene which burst upon her astonished sight, for 
she paused in mute amazement on the threshold of the apartment 
Oi: a sofa lay Lady Normanton, just recovering from a fit of strong 
hysterics, her hair pushed back from her brow, which her maid 
was copiously bathing with eau de Cologne, her hands tightly 
grasping the sides of the couch, and her lips white and firmly 
compressed. On a table near stood smelling-salts, vinegar, harts- 
horn, and sal volatile ; the table had evidently been pushed 
violently aside, for its cover was half torn off, and a large vase of 
flowers lay overturned and shattered, the water dripping on the 
'carpet. Maude Conway, with a face pale as ashes, leant silent 
and motionless near the fireplace ; while her sister, with a cross, 
cynical expression of countenance, stood near the sofa, directing 
Johnson in no very gentle tones, in the varied operations necessary 
for her mistress’s recovery. 

“ Gracious heavens, Maude ! what does all this mean? ” cried 
Lady Catherine, advancing into the room.* 

Maude made no answer, but her lips became paler still. 

“ Maude, why do you not speak? Isabella, what in the world 
is all this about ? Has anything dreadful happened ? ” exclaimed 
Lady Catherine, seizing her friend by the arm, and making her sit 
down, whilst she gently chafed her temples. 

“ Mamma and Maude dearly love to get up a piece of excite- 
ment, so do not look so terrified, Catherine ; and, above all, pray 
don’t faint too; we have enough upon our hands already,” replied 
Isabella, spitefully glancing at her mother, whose fragjle figure 
seemed convulsed with sobs. 

“ You have not yet answered my question, Isabella,” responded 
Lady Catherine, coldly. 

“ Why, Maude may thank herself for it all ; and, luckily for 
us, she has only her own vacillation to blame. The cause of all 
this tremendous uproar is, that Colonel Sutherland came here this 
morning, and insisted on an interview with Maude ; now, if she 
had properly dismissed him, he would not have dared to do this. 
He insolently refused to quit the house until she complied with 
his request, and at length mamma’s nerves became so frightfully 
agitated, that Maude found herself obliged to consent — so down 
she came ; but in the midst of the Colonel’s agonized declamation, 
22 * 


258 


PIQUE. 


who should arrive hut Normanton! I cannot tell you, then, *vhat 
passed ; except that on Colouel Sutherland’s refusing again to 
leave the house, high words ensued, showers fell from Maude’s 
eyes, mamma screamed, and at length the Colonel left, vowing to 
demand satisfaction. Normanton expressed himself quite ready 
to afford it ; so, I suppose, the upshot of this romantic affair will 
be a challenge, and a duel. Normanton has this moment driven 
from the door, and leaves us in the delightful confusion you see.” 

“ Dear Maude, take courage ! the affair may still be adjusted ; 
it is still quite possible to prevent the meeting,” said Lady Cathe- 
rine, inexpressibly shocked, wiping away the tears which bedewed 
Maude’s pale cheek. 

“ Maude loves notoriety, and she may have it now to her heart’s 
content,” observed Isabella, sarcastically. 

“My brother — my dear, kind brother!” murmured Miss 
Conway, shudderingly, covering her eyes. 

In the mean time, Lady Catherine’s presence had done more 
towards restoring Lady Norman ton’s nerves than all the lotions, 
drops, and essences on the table. She now raised her head from 
the cushion, and repeated her daughter’s last words. 

“ Your brother — your dear, kind brother ! Yes, Maude, you 
may well talk of your dear brother, when you reflect on the pretty 
predicament your folly has entailed,” exclaimed she in a feeble, 
querulous, weeping voice. “I am the most miserable woman in 
existence. My son will be murdered ! ” continued she, wringing 
her hands frantically. “ That odious Colonel Sutherland ! I 
always foreboded some evil would come from his acquaintance. I 
told Maude so ; but all my children delight in tormenting me. 
Johnson, I wish you would not scrub my poor head as if you were 
handling a block of wood! Give me some more drops, quick! ” 

Miss ^abella Conway watched the operation, and then said, — 

“ I suppose your ladyship is now sufficiently recovered. John- 
son, you may go ; and for the love of heaven, carry away with you 
all that array of pots, jars, and bottles. Faugh ! the room smells 
like a druggist’s shop! ” and she turned away superciliously, and 
threw the window open. 

“Give me a clean handkerchief, and fetch me down another 
cap, Johnson, for I see the sal volatile has stained my ribbons. 
Eeally, Isabella, you have no consideration for an invalid. Well 
Lady Catherine, what do you think of this most dreadful affair ? 
Is not Maude’s folly perfectly incredible in bringing that man 
here, when she knew we were daily expecting Normanton? ” 

“ I do not think Maude is to blame in the slightest degree, Lady 


PIQUE. 


259 


NormaDton ; and I consider she is most unjustly and unnecessarily 
accused by yourself and Isabella. I am sure Lord Norman ton 
acquits her.” 

“But that is no reason why she should be right, Lady Cathe- 
rine. I verily believe Maude has bewitched her brother ; he 
would have thought twice before he exposed his life, either for me 
or Isabella,” replied Lady Norman ton, tartly. 

“ Well, Lady Normanton, allow me to suggest that, instead of over- 
whelming your innocc nt daughter with unmerited reproach, it would 
now be a wiser course to consider what can be done to prevent this 
unhappy duel. Do you know where Lord Normanton is gone? ” 
Asked Lady Catherine, in accents of strong indignation, as she 
glanced at Maude’s suffering, despairing face. 

“ Normanton never tells me anything,” rejoined Lady Normanton. 
fretfully. 

“ Do you know, Isabella ? ” 

“Not I! Normantou flew off in so mighty a tantrum, that I 
should almost imagine his coachman might drive him to Witham 
before he could collect his ideas to give any intelligible direction.” 

“ Maude, dearest, cannot you give any hint where your brother 
is gone ? I will then go at once to the Chauntry and ask Sir 
Gerard’s intervention. You know he is the only person in this 
neighborhood well acquainted with Lord Normanton,” said Lady 
Catherine, soothingly, gently pressing her lips to the forehead of 
her friend. 

Maude shook her head mournfully. 

“ I feel perfectly convinced that nothing will come after all of 
this. Normanton and Colonel Sutherland, when they recover their 
senses, will think better before they hazard their lives for this 
most ridiculous broil — so cheer up, Maude ! ” said Miss Isabella 
Conway, composedly taking a book of engravings from the shelf. 

“ Well, I must own Normanton has made a delightful finale to 
all his romantic foolery. If anything should happen to your 
brother, we shall be turned out of Moreton. Never was anybody 
so persecuted by adverse circumstances as I have been throughout 
life ! After all, dear Normanton is most dutiful and loving ; and 
that, I suppose, is the reason why he is going to be snatched from 
roe,” exclaimed Lady Normanton, commencing another loud fit of 
hysterical sobbing. 

Miss Isabella Conway arose, and taking a smelling-bottle from 
the table, put it under her mother’s nose. 

“Bing for Johnson! Take it away, Isabella ! ” cried Lady 
Normanton. 


260 


riQUE. 


“Maude, as you sit close to the bell, just ring for Johnson," 
exclaimed Miss Isabella, coolly, returning to her book. 

“ We will only delay one moment, Lady Normanton, before we 
summon your maid. Maude wishes to speak to Hughes immedi- 
ately,” said Lady Catherine, starting to her feet ; and, before a 
word could be spoken in reply, she pulled the bell-rope. 

The servant entered. Lady Catherine turned towards Miss 
Conway ; but, seeing her make one unavailing effort to s]5eak, said 
at once, — 

“We wish to know, Hughes, whether you heard Lord Norman- 
ton give any directions to his coachman where to drive on leaving 
More ton ? ” 

“ Why, my lady, my young master took his departure in such 
confusion, that I have no very clear recollection of what passed ; 
but I believe he told the boys to drive to Sir Gerard Baynton’s.” 

“Oh, very well; that will do, Hughes. Lady Normanton 
wishes her maid to be sent here directly,” said Lady Catherine, 
exchanging a quick glance with Maude. 

“ Mamma, I shall go immediately to the Chauntry,” said Maude, 
rising, and speaking in low resolute tones. 

“ Indeed, Miss Conway ! I see my children do not care a straw 
whether I live or die. Tell Normanton for me I will never speak 
to him as long as I exist, unless he gives up this wicked duel. It 
will be the death of me. I shall never get the better of the 
excitement,” exclaimed Lady Normanton, bathing her flushed 
cheeks with Cologne. 

“You will find that you are flying off on a sad, bootless errand, 
Maude, I can tell you. Y ou might j ust as well essay to move the Peak 
of Teneriffe as to shake Normanton’ s obstinate self-will. I should 
advise you to drive to Mon-Bijou, as a more accessible point,” said 
Isabella, slowly. After a moment’s pause, she continued, “ Cathe- 
rine, as Maude is going to be otherwise engaged, I should be glad 
if yon will accept me as the companion of your walk.” 

“I am sorry to decline your proposal, as when I leave I shall 
return straight home,” replied Lady Catherine, coldly; for she 
was more disgusted than she would willingly have expressed, at 
Isabella’s unfeeling deportment. 

Haughtily turning away, Isabella swept out of the room, aa 
Johnson entered. 

“ I hope, Lady Normanton, you will not be displeased with 
Maude, if she comes to Wardour instead of returning here after 
her visit to Lady Emily. Change of air and scene will be most 
beneficial to her. I trust you make no objection to my proposal.” 


PIQUE. 


261 


“ None in the world, I assure you, Catherine. Maude’s absence 
will be a positive relief from most painful reminiscences. You ha7e 
my full permission, Maude ; and if anything should result from 
your visit to the Chauntry, perhaps you will not think it too much 
trouble to communicate it to myself and your sister. 

“ Certainly not, mamma,” responded poor Maude. 

“ If people only knew the torment children bring, I am sure they 
never would marry. Shut the window, Johnson, and then you may 
fan me, whilst I make an effort to snatch a short repose,” said Lady 
Normanton, peevishly. 

Lady Catherine and Maude quitted the room. 

“ Never mind what they say, dearest Maude. As for Isabella 
and her stony heart, nobody listens to her, and Lady Normanton’s 
spirits, we must allow, have been frightfully agitated this morn- 
ing ; besides which, we ought to remember these moods are partly 
the result of failing health. Come, dearest, I will go with you to 
your room, put on your cloak, and see you fairly start,” said 
Lady Catherine, laughing. 

With her own fair hands, Lady Catherine equipped her friend 
for her expedition, and then helped her to pack up the few things 
necessary for her visit to Wardour. Having then seen Maude 
fairly off beyond the lodge gates, she turned into the shrubbery 
path which led to the meadows. An unaccountable weight 
oppressed her spirits, and a deeper gloom overpowered her, than 
when, some two hours ago, she trod the same path. Vainly she 
sought its cause in the agitating incidents of her visit ; but, 
though deeply pained for Maude Conway’s sake, Lord Normanton, 
comparatively speaking, was a stranger to her, and Colonel Suther- 
land, even more than indifferent ; so that the circumstance, dread- 
ful as it was, of their anticipated hostile encounter, could not pro- 
duce the depression under which she fruitlessly tried to rally. 
YVhen she reached the little gate, Lady Catherine paused, for no 
Sappho came bounding forwards with furious vehemence to wel- 
come her back. Concluding that poor Sappho’s constancy was of 
a very fleeting description, and that she had returned home, Lady 
Catherine walked on a few yards, when, chancing to glance round 
the field, she perceived her at some distance, crouched on a mossy 
bank, and by her side, no less comfortably lounged a gentleman. 
Not recognizing the individual thus patronized by her favorite, 
Lady Catherine stopped, and called the dog. Sappho bounded up, 
and after shaking herself, rushed forwards towards her mistress; 
while the gentleman, when he arose and turned his head, Lady 
Catherine knew to be her cousin Mr. Turville. She walked for- 
wards to meet him. 


262 


PIQUE. 


“ I was crossing these meadows, Catherine, and seeing your dog 
at Lady Normanton’s gate, I knew you were near. 1 hope your 
displeasure will not be kindled at my presuming to keep watch 
with Sappho, or that I have seized the first opportunity since my 
banishment of speaking to you out of your own grounds,” said 
Mr. Turville, slowly. 

There was something in his tone which caused Lady Catherine 
deep pain. 

“ I wish you would not talk to me in this manner; you know, 
Charles, I am always glad to see you,” replied she, hastily. 

“Are you, Catherine? Is the ban, then, removed which 
excludes me from your dear society?” asked Mr. Turville, 
earnestly. 

She shook her head, and walked slowly forwards. 

“Are you happier, Catherine, since you sent me from you?” 
demanded he, walking by her side, and gazing on her pale cheeks 
and brow. 

“No, Charles.” 

“ When will this terminate, Catherine? When do you expect 
Mr. Randolph in England ? ” asked Mr. Turville, in his most 
immovable tones. 

“ Charles, you offend me greatly by persisting in talking to me 
in this strain. As you never heard the acknowledgment from my 
lips that Mr. Randolph is anything to me, you ought not to assume 
it. Let us talk on some other subject,” replied Lady Catherine, 
very gravely, with kindling cheek. 

“ No; let us converse on that subject which concerns U3 most, 
Catherine,” replied Mr. Turville, firmly. “ My conviction that, 
unfortunately, Mr. Randolph is not indifferent to you, is founded 
principally on your own manner ; on the admissions which good 
Mrs. Otway occasionally drops ; and, above all, on a conversation 
I had with Mrs. Rayland, supported and confirmed as it is by a 
letter I received a few days ago from Madame de Pezzaro ” 

“But wherefore, and to what purpose, am I the object of all 
this spying, Mr. Turville? I never requested your -interference, 
nor will I listen to its result,” said Lady Catherine, angrily, 
turning aside. 

“Iam well aware, Catherine, that my motives are liable to be 
construed by you into self-interested ones. However, had your 
love been given to any man who would have come forwards, proudly, 
to claim that precious gift, I could have resigned you ; with a bit- 
ter pang, indeed, though one known only to my own heart ; but 
when I see your health and spirits giving way under the burden of 


PIQUE. 


2M 

this love, with some adventurer, I must and will rescue you. even 
in defiance of your own commands.” 

“ Enough, Mr. Turville. You have done your duty as my near- 
est relative; you have remonstrated; this is enough!” replied 
Lady Catherine, resentfully. 

“ No, not enough, Catherine, until I have convinced you. Your 
aunt has seen nothing more of Mr. Randolph. She describes him 
as a man possessed of wealth and most insinuating manners ; but 
carefully avoiding any allusion to his past career ; and holding 
aloof from men of his own outward station in life. More than 
this, dear cousin, from inquiries I have made, I feel a positive 
conviction that he really has no claim to the name of Randolph?” 

“ This is too much ! I positively forbid you, Charles, to address 
me in this language, or ever to allude in my presence to the name 
of Randolph. I will listen to no remonstrances from you on the 
subject ! ” exclaimed Lady Catherine, passionately, turning her 
flashing eyes on Mr. Turville, who continued walking calmly by 
her side. 

“ Your anger, Catherine, at hearing the truth, only shows me 
how much more deeply seated is the evil than l imagined. Forget 
now that I ever aspired to be other to you than your cousin and 
best friend, and believe my plain assertion that what I say relative 
to this destroyer of your peace, — this Mr. Randolph, is not the 
result of conjecture ; it is fact ; and whoever he may be, trust me 
he has no claim to the name of Randolph,” replied Mr. Turville, 
decisively. 

To assert that our heroine felt not a little doubt and sadness of 
heart while listening to her cousin’s earnest expostulation, would 
be to record her as something almost superhuman ; but love soon 
came to her aid, and threw a roseate veil over all her scruples. 

“ Well, Charles, leave me to my destiny; whatever it may be, 
it has been my deliberate choice; and I am content — yes, con- 
tent — to abide its issue,” replied she, while a beautiful, trustful 
smile of hope lighted her countenance. 

•* Catherine, what can I say to rouse you to the folly, the mad- 
ness of the course you are pursuing ? You pine away daily under 
the burden of this secret, whatever mav be its nature, imposed 
upon you by a man, who, if he truly loved you, would never sub- 
ject you to the misery you daily endure. Catherine it must be 
something very terrible which he would so carefully conceal from 
the guardian appointed by your father and all your friends ; and 
fettered by this pnmise. you will at length droop under its pres- 
sure. Speak d^ar, dear Catnerine ! tell me what I can do, and I 
will serve you with the zeal of the most devoted brother.” 


V 


264 


PIQUE. 


“You can do nothing, Chailes; nothing. Have patience ; one 
day I will explain all that appears so wilful, so inexplicable in my 
present conduct,” rejoined Lady Catherine, while tears swam in 
her eyes. 

“ And, meanwhile, what will become of you, Catherine? ” 

“ Meanwhile, I shall try to learn submission to my lot. Indeed 
Charles, I see so much misery of all kinds around me, that it 
almost teaches me to be satisfied with my fate, and to thank God 
that no worse has befallen me,” replied she, with a melancholy 
smile. 

Mr. Turville made no reply, and they continued walking on in 
silence. Lady Catherine, with her eyes bent to the ground, mused 
on many matters ; for the scene she had recently witnessed, and 
its impending catastrophe, intruded itself with strange persever- 
ance, even in the midst of her own anxieties. More than once she 
determined to impart it to her cousin ; but the words were arrested 
on her lips by the reflection that she had no right to bruit into 
other ears, an occurrence that her intimacy with the family at 
Moreton had alone brought to her knowledge ; and which they 
would most probably wish hushed up, in case the quarrel were 
adjusted. So, busy with her thoughts, she strolled along by her 
kind, true-hearted cousin’s side, listlessly dragging the point of her 
parasol on the grass. 

“ Well, Catherine, as you refuse my aid, scorn my counsel, and 
banish me from Wardour, I shall make preparations for going 
abroad immediately. I will not stay to be a silent witness of the grief 
which is slowly destroying you,” said Mr. Turville, in resolute 
tones. 

“ Nay, Charles, do not talk so. Do not let me add to my other 
anxieties, the bitter thought that I have driven you from home and 
country. Oh ! if you would but take my advice ; forget your 
ungrateful cousin Catherine, and think somebody else could make 
you happier than she ever would ” 

A bitter smile curled Mr. Turville’s lip. 

“ Do you know anybody who would answer this purpose, Cathe- 
rine ? ” interrupted he. 

“ Yes, Maude Conway would,” replied Lady Catherine, in low 
tones, turning away her head. 

Mr. Turville’s dark eyes were turned for a moment in derision, 
almost anger, upon her. 

“Thank you, Catherine. You, perhaps, think two crushed 
hearts nyght solace each other. But we are at your gate. I 
suppose 1 must not enter ? ” 


PIQUE. 


265 


Lady Catherine paused, tears stood in her eyes, yet she dare not 
bid her cousin enter. She felt that his attachment had not dimin- 
ished by three weeks’ exile, and she detected the spark of hope 
which still lingered at his heart, in spite of her repeated assur- 
ances ; and she silently held out her hand. 

“ And so Mr. Randolph has taken it into his head to be jealous 
of our intimacy ? By my faith ! ’t is the best trait I have yet 
heard of his character. Farewell, Catherine.” 

And Mr. Turville closed the gate, and without once venturing a 
glance at his cousin’s sorrowful face, hurriedly retraced his steps. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

‘‘Are you tired with your walk, my dear? I fully expected 
Maude Conway would return with you. I hope you found her 
well? ” said Mrs. Otway, as Lady Catherine entered the room again. 

“ She will be here by-and-bye. But what have you been doing 
with yourself all this long morning?” asked Lady Catherine, 
quickly glancing round the room; for when she entered, Mrs. 
Otway was pacing up and down, and her knitting lay snugly 
deposited in its long wicker basket ; a sure sign that the kind old 
lady labored under some unusual mental excitement. 

“I have been entertaining visitors for you, Catherine — Lord 
and Lady Alresford. The Earl said, with that beautiful smile of 
his, that he could not drive away without shaking hands with me, 
when he heard that I was at home.” 

“No, I am sure he would not. What did you think of Lady 
Alresford? Did she make herself agreeable, also? ” asked Lady 
Catherine, untying her bonnet. 

“ Very, Catherine. I like her much better than I did. What 
a pretty creature she is, to be sure ! her teeth are transparent as 
pearls ! I thought to myself, however, they looked more like a 
pair of lovers than husband and wife. She has such a strange, 
shy way of glancing at him when his attention is attracted else- 
where ; and then, if by chance their eyes meet, that beautiful 
color of hers deepens ” 

“Did Mildred leave any message for me?” 

“Yes, my dear. She desired me to say she hoped you would 
return her visit very speedily. She repeated this message twice,” 
23 


266 


PIQUE. 


“ I will go and see her to-morrow ; that is, if poor dear Maude 
is in a condition to be left. 

“ Left ! What do you mean, Catherine ? Is there anything 
amiss with Maude Conway? ” 

“ Sit down, dear Mrs. Otway, and I will relate the scene I wit- 
nessed at Moreton this morning, and then you will not think 
me perhaps the only unlucky person in the world ; ” and Lady 
Catherine briefly recounted what she had seen and heard. 

“Good heavens, what a dreadful affair!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Otway, lifting up her hands. “ I am glad, poor young creature, 
3lie is coming here, out of the reach of her peevish, iil-natured 
mother’s tongue. Love is a very different thing to what it used 
to be in my days. Then it made people happy ; now, as far as my 
experience and observation go, it produces quite an opposite effect. 
Poor Normanton! to think that lie should get into this terrible 
mess as soon as he sets foot in England again ! As a child he had 
always a fiery impetuous spirit. Poor fellow, if anything happens 
to him, Maude will never forgive herself to her dying day. How 
she ever could be mad enough to encourage that odious Colonel 
Sutherland! But here she comes,” said Mrs. Otway, interrupting 
herself as a loud peal from the hall door bell announced an arrival. 
“ Fly, Catherine, my dear, and learn whether she has succeeded in 
her mission. I declare the shocking catastrophe has made every 
limb quake ! ” 

In a minute, however, Miss Conway stood before them. Her 
face was still very pale, and no smile of hope or comfort gladdened 
it She was followed closely by Lady Emily Baynton ; who, 
alarmed at her agitated state, had most kindly and considerately 
insisted on accompanying her back to Ward our Court. Lady 
Catherine’s heart sank with apprehension when she heard the very 
brief tidings they were able to impart ; which amounted simply to 
the facts that Lord Normanton called at the Chauntry, and after a 
short private interview with Sir Gerard, both gentlemen stepped 
into the carriage, and ordered the postilions to drive to Witham. 
All Sir Gerard intimated to his mother was, that an affair of 
importance would most probably detain him from home for a 
few days. 

“How far is Witham from here, Maude?” asked Catherine. 

“'About fifteen miles.” 

“You cannot do more, dear Maude. Tranquillize yourself with 
the thought that Gerard will employ every resource to bring this 
unhappy affair to an amicable termination,” said Lady Emily, 
Booth ingly. 


PIQUE. 


267 


Maude’ 3 heart, however, refused to he thus consoled ; she wept 
as one without hope. After Lady Emily’s departure, everything 
was said and done which the tenderest affection could suggest ; 
for Lady Catherine appeared to forget her own griefs in alleviating 
the sorrow of her friend. During that long, long afternoon, Maude 
wrote two letters, one to her brother, the other to Colonel Suther- 
land. In them she exhausted every argument, every entreaty, the 
liveliest feeling could prompt. She conjured them to reflect, ere 
they suffered a few hasty words to hurry them to the commission 
of a deed, which, if attended with fatal results, would imbitter 
forever the existence of the survivor. Her brother she passionately 
adjured to pardon the injury done her by Colonel Sutherland, even 
as she had forgiven it, and not to poison her future life with the 
agonizing reflection that she had been his destroyer, or else that of 
the man once dear enough to be accepted as her intended husband. 
When these letters were despatched, Maude felt more tranquillized. 
She wandered on the terrace, on the lawn, in the shrubberies, as 
restless fancy suggested ; around were none but sympathizing 
faces, and she felt the inestimable consolation of the kind, loving 
eyes bent upon her. The evening came, and wearied out with her 
long day of watching and excitement, Maude at length yielded to 
Mrs. Otway’s importunity, and suffered herself to be carried off to 
bed in triumph by the good old lady ; who, after she had com- 
fortably laid her patient’s aching head on the pillow, took a chair 
and stationed herself to watch beside her, until she slept. 

Lady Catherine, meanwhile, remained passive, immersed in 
deep thought, for some time after her friend and Mrs. Otway 
quitted the room. Now that Maude was no longer present, and 
the task of consoling and comforting her friend ceased to divert 
her mind, the full tide of her own anxieties overpowered her. The 
day was drawing fast to its close, and as the light glided stealthily 
from the apartment, all around wore the gray, solemn chillness, 
peculiar to an autumnal twilight. Lady Catherine sat with her 
elbow resting on the sofa cushion^ and her face buried in her hand, 
heedless of the gathering gloom, until the cold breeze caused her 
to raise her head. Half shudderingly she arose with the intention 
of closing the windows, when the sombre aspect of the room seemed 
all at once to strike her; the thin muslin window-curtains shook 
and waved in the wind, which lightly drifted before it the fallen 
leaves on the terrace. A slight sensation of nervous dread over- 
powered her, as she glanced round the large, lonely room, and then 
on the dark foliage without, heavy and indistinct in the mists of 
evening. She hastily closed the window, then, resolved to subdue 


268 


PIQUE. 


her involuntary tremor, she sat down before the piano. Her fingers 
wandered over the keys for a few seconds, bat the sounds grated 
on her ear ; their tone was too light and joyous, and harmonized 
little with the solemn stillness around, or with the sadness weighing 
on her spirits. 

Again Lady Catherine arose, and lighting a taper quitted the 
room. She crossed the hall, and traversed with a quick step sev- 
eral ancient vaulted passages, which at length brought her to a 
door opening on a small flagged court. Opposite arose a low Gothic 
building, covered with ivy, entered by a deep, stone porch. Lady 
Catherine paused, and took down a key, suspended on a nail just 
within the passage door-way, then drawing her scarf tightly round 
her figure, she crossed the little court. The taper flickered as the 
light wind blew ; but hastily she threw open the small door under 
the porch, and soon stood within a spacious apartment, which had 
formerly served her ancestors as a chapel. Lady Catherine 
possessed too reverend and devout a mind to devote to secular 
purposes what had once been consecrated to God ; consequently, 
the chapel continued to serve as a place for the household to 
assemble in at morning prayer. The rich painted glass windows, 
however, still threw their glowing hues on the pavement, and the 
organ which had led the devotions of her ancestors yet occupied its 
wonted recess, near the spot where formerly the altar reared its 
gorgeous splendor. Lady Catherine closed the door, and approach- 
ing the organ lighted it3 two wax tapers. She then turned, and 
took a short rapid glance round the apartment ; for, although in 
the constant habit of whiling away the evening in playing upon 
the noble instrument before her, a feeling of nervous dread was 
still paramount. The opposite row of windows opened on the ter- 
race ; for the small' ivy-covered chapel, with its tiny tower, formed 
a most picturesque termination to the noble range appertaining to 
the mansion. 

The possession of this organ had^proved one of Lady < atherine’s 
greatest solaces since her return from the continent. When her 
spirit was dark within her, the solemn melody soothed its gloom 
and irritability, and often she played until her fingers fell power- 
less from the keys, and she wept tears of unspeakable relief. She 
now again turned towards the instrument, and seating herself, 
opened the music on the desk before her. It was Mozart’s Twelfth 
Mass ; and chords, grand, majestic, and harmonious soon filled the 
apartment, rolling away iif deep, massive surges of sound, vibrating 
on the soft night air. She played, and her spirit grew brighter 
within her ; the glorious inspirations of the great composer seemed 


PIQUE. 


2f>9 

to kindle a corresponding spark in her own enthusiastic mind. 
The concluding notes of the sublime “ Quonium tu solus sanctus,” 
died away, and she sat listening with solemn awe to the profound 
hush which all at once prevailed, when a sharp sound, as of leaves 
flapping against the window, caused her to start, and glance hur- 
riedly around. The gloom had deepened, save just around the 
spot where the candles threw their feeble glare. She struck another 
chord, but ere the sound melted away the sash of the painted 
window immediately opposite, which opened like a door on the 
terrace, was pushed back, and some one entered the apartment and 
advanced towards her. Lady Catherine did not scream ; she stood 
mute and pale, awaiting what next should befall her. Slowly the 
intruder let fall the cape of the cloak which enveloped his figure. 
A cry of joy escaped her lips, as she presently bounded forwards 
and flung herself into the arms extended towards her. Mr. Ran- 
dolph, for it was he, folded her to his heart, and passionately 
kissed her pale lips and forehead. 

“ Catherine, my best beloved, it rejoices you, then, to see me ? 
You are faithful — faithful in spirit to your vow? ” said he. 

She slowly raised her head from his bosom, and her beautiful 
eyes fixed themselves with an earnest, almost painful expression 
on his. 

“Did you ever sincerely doubt me, Frederic? Could you 
believe me false — false to the love my own lips owned, my own 
will ratified ? Speak ! did you think so lightly of me ? ” 

“Not till I had seen another usurp a privilege mine only, Cath- 
erine ; till then, I refused to believe.” 

“ Oh, Frederic, if, indeed, you witnessed this, you must also 
have heard me spurn Charles Turville’s proffered love.” 

“ I heard nothing, my Catherine ; the sight nearly maddened me.” 

“But where were you, Frederic? And how came you at 
Nethercote ? ” 

“In the wood immediately opposite. I had watched and fol- 
lowed your steps, Catherine. Had Mr. Turville delayed another 
instant he would have found me at your feet.” 

“ Has this shadow now passed forever from your mind, Frederic? 
Do you believe that Charles Turville has never caused me to swerve 
from the fidelity I vowed to you ? Answer me truly ! ” and Lady 
Catherine’s eyes rested upon him with an intensity as if she would 
read his soul. 

“ I believe you, my Catherine — believe you to be faithful, 
noble, and true!” replied Mr. Randolph, fondly kissing hei 
crimsoned cheek. 

23 * 


270 


PIQUE. 


“ Oh, was it then for this chimera, this cruel doubt, that you 
violated your solemn promise to be with me two months past — 
then to avow our marriage, and release me from the necessity of 
deceiving those who have so firm a trust in my truth and honor ? 
Oh, Frederic, you have cruelly abused your power over me I” 
exclaimed Lady Catherine, in a tone of sorrowful reproach. 

“ No, Catherine ; on the day I promised to be with you, I set 
my foot on English ground ; but it had been insidiously whispered 
in my ear, before I quitted Italy, that the proud heiress of War- 
dour encouraged the addresses of her cousin. I spurned the report 
with indignation. Catherine ! I flew to clasp you in my arms, to 
proclaim you mine, and found my supposed rival at your feet. Is 
this no palliation, my beloved one ? I determined to solve my 
bitter doubts. Could I thus hold you to my heart and call you 
mine, my own Catherine, had I suffered a single misgiving to mar 
the bliss of our meeting? ” 

“ Then is it to redeem your promise that you are here — to tell 
me to whom I have vowed everlasting love? Dear Frederic, let 
mystery now cease between us, I implore you.” 

“Catherine, will you hate me — will you cast me forever from 
your precious affection, when I tell you that I cannot yet make 
this revelation? Even since the short period I have been in 
England, a fresh obstacle has arisen. I dare not yet claim you. 
Catherine, turn not aside. God grant that the impediment to 
which I allude may be but temporary ! In a few days I will 
return, dearest, to kneel to you, to make you mine ! ” said Mr. 
Kandolph, speaking rapidly and passionately. 

She started from his arms and stood before him. The light 
glimmered on her features — they were pale as her white gown. 

“ A few days ! ” rejoined she, speaking in a tone of suppressed 
emotion, and her lip curled with a bitter smile; “a few days! 
Think, Frederic, how many have passed in the keen misery of 
fallacious hope since last we met. Let me know this obstacle. 
Let me share your anxieties. Frederic, if you value my peace, if 
you would not have me repent the deed which now links me to 
your fate, tell me everything.” 

“ I cannot. To reveal the obstacle which for the present seals 
my lips would be to heap misery and suspense, surpassing even 
what you have already endured for my sake. Believe me ; trust 
me yet a few days, and all may yet be well. Say, my Catherine* 
that you will have patience.” 

She slowly averted her head, and her full lip quivered. Mr. 
Kandolph threw himself into a chair. Lady Catherine contemplated 
him in silence for a few seconds. 


PIQUE. 


271 


44 Frederic, you are moved ! ” exclaimed she seizing his hand. 
44 1 will not have patience. If such a fearful ordeal as you de- 
scribe awaits you, it is meet that I, your wife, should stand by 
your side. Frederic, dear Frederic! explain this mystery! ” said 
she, in a voice of passionate emotkn. 

The uncertain light glanced on her white dress, and on her cheek 
bedewed with tears, as she hid her face on his bosom. 

4 ‘No, ask me not, Catherine. Never will I doom you to this 
suspense ! ” said Mr. Randolph, passionately, kissing away her tears. 

4 ‘ Hear me,” continued Lady Catherine, almost sternly. “ Is it 
any obstacle of birth, wealth, or position, which deters you from 
doing this most righteous act of acknowledging our marriage? 
Only say so, Frederic, and this very evening I take you by the 
hand and present you to my household as its master! ” 

44 Catherine, your noble words would make me, were it possible, 
worship you more madly still. Fear not; your friends will never 
have reason to blush for your choice; nor surely will you, my 
beloved, still refuse credit to my solemn assurance, that ’t is not a 
selfish scruple which induces me to implore your patience a little 
space longer. My Catherine, our next interview shall explain 
everything; you shall judge me, sweet one, and never will delin- 
quent submit more submissively to any sentence than I will then 
to yours,” said Mr. Randolph, earnestly. 

“ But to lose you again — to be plunged into the same miserable 
doubt and uncertainty — to feel almost criminal in the presence of 
others ! Oh, Frederic ! must this anguish again be mine ? I gave 
you my faith under circumstances almost unparalleled. Does not 
such a trust demand some return on your part ? Why will you 
overwhelm me with shame and confusion ? Why render our union, 
which nobody has a right to contest, a clandestine intrigue ? Oh, 
Frederic ! dear Frederic ! think again. In heart and soul, under 
whatever circumstances, I am yours ! What, then, do you fear ? ” 
and Lady Catherine knelt before him, her beautiful face now flush- 
ing, now pale with excitement. The tears which a few moments 
ago streamed plentifully down her hot cheeks, were suddenly 
arrested, and her figure trembled with intense emotion. Never, 
in her day of proudest triumph, had she boasted of more beauty. 
Suddenly she felt hersejf caught in his strong embrace. 

“ My own Catherine! my wife! I will not not mock you with 
the vain question whether you love me well enough to sacrifice 
something yet for my sake. Yes, you shall share my secret. Con- 
sent to this one alternative, — be mine ! Fly with me ; and ere 
sunrise you shall know the whole of my brief history. My best 


272 


PIQUE. 


beloved, it is only when assured of the privilege of watching over 
you that I dare reveal the ordeal which now impends.” 

For a brief second after he ceased speaking she was silent, the 
quick heaving of her bosom alone testifying the conflict in her 
mind. Mr. Randolph pressed his lips to her brow, her cheeks — 
she hurriedly started from him. There was a desperate tranquillity 
in her manner, and a tremulousness in her tones as she spoke, 
which caused him to raise his eyes anxiously to her face. 

“Fly with you! Why, and from whom should I fly, Fred- 
eric? What is there to control my actions, save religion and vir- 
tue? Acknowledge our marriage, and to-morrow I follow you 
wherever you will ! ” 

“ I have before told you that I cannot at present do this, Cathe- 
rine ; though it may be a very, very brief period ere I claim you 
openly as my wife. My honor, which ought to be dear to you as 
your own, Catherine, forbids the immediate avowal of our mar- 
riage. Oh, yield then to my prayer ; come with me ! share my 
anxieties, and be to me; my beloved, more than ever the fairest 
creations of fancy pictured.” 

“What madness possesses you, Frederic? Would you throw 
from you the most precious dowry I can bring — your wife’s repu- 
tation ? Shall I also suffer even a temporary stain to rest on my own 
noble line — the first of my race who dishonored the name of 
Neville? Never! never! Tempt me no more! Go! do your 
duty — that duty you tell me which supersedes the most solemn 
vow human lips can utter ! I can suffer still ! ” and she turned 
away and rested her throbbing temples on the keys of the organ. 

Mr. Randolph paced up and down the apartment several times ; 
he at length returned to her side. 

“ You are right. Forget my mad proposal, Catherine, and for- 
give me all the sorrow I heap upon your head. Catherine ! I was 
once a sceptic in woman’s faith, in woman’s disinterested love ; 
your noble devotion has made a convert of me,” said Mr. Randolph, 
in a voice of deep emotion, bending over her. 

“Never to distrust me again — never?” asked she, in a low, 
unsteady tone. 

“Never! ” 

She raised her eyes, swimming in tears ; a smile, bright and 
fleeting as an April gleam, passed over her face. 

“Not even if I readmit poor Charles Turville to all his accus- 
tomed privileges at Wardour? ” 

“Not even then.” 

There was a pause of some minutes. Mr. Randolph clasped hia 
cloak. Lady Catherine shuddered. 


PIQUE. 


273 


** When shall I see you again ? ” murmured she, faintly. 

“ Expect me in three or four days ; but oh, Catherine ! if within 
this time I should not fulfil my promise, think not hardly of me 
— and now farewell, my own ! — one parting embrace ! ” 

She flung herself into his arms. 

“ Oh, tell me again, Frederic ; renew the assurance that our 
next interview terminates this suspense which is destroying me. 
Nay, even now let me know this secret ; for the most piercing 
anguish were better than delay, however brief! ” exclaimed she, in 
a voice broken by deep sobs. 

“ What shall I say? Catherine, this distress is more than I 
can bear. Do you repent your decision? Come with me, then, to 
part no more ! ” 

She shook her head. Suddenly a gleam of hope sparkled in her 
eye. She turned eagerly towards him. 

“ Frederic ! where would you take me?” asked she. 

“ To that home, Catherine, to which I would lead my wife, were 
her hand placed in mine by her father’s representative,” replied 
Mr. Randolph, after a pause. 

She saw that he evaded her inquiry. There was a long, a bitter 
silence ; at length she raised her head. 

“ Farewell, Frederic ! go now ! This parting is bitter — it must 
be — let us no longer delay it ! ” and Lady Catherine turned away, 
and taking up one of the tapers, unfalteringly approached the door. 

Once more she turned. Mr. Randolph stood with the most 
intense sorrow imprinted on his face. He caught her look of deep 
affection, and mingled regret and pity. 

“ Catherine, leave me not ! ” exclaimed he, springing towards her; 
but, in another second, she was gone, and the heavy door closed. 

She fled from temptation ! 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

“ See, Mildred, I have just received this letter from Lord Elvas- 
ton. He and your mother purpose visiting Amesbury next week,” 
said Lord Alresford, putting a letter into his wife’s hand. 

A joyful smile lighted up Mildred’s face. 

•‘You wrote to beg them to come here, I see, en route to Brigh- 
ton, Lord Alresford. How kind of you to prepare for me this 


274 


PIQUE. 


pleasant and very unexpected happiness,” said she, raising her 
eyes from the eager perusal of her father’s letter. “ Dear, dear 
mamma, what joy to see you again ! ” 

“ Lady Elvaston will equally rejoice, Mildred. I can imagine 
her delight. This is Friday ; they arrive on Wednesday, you see ; 
bo in four days they will he with you.*’ 

‘‘‘But Helen, — dear Helen, — papa does not mention her in 
his letter,” said Mildred, hesitatingly. 

“ Would you like to ask Miss Campbell to accompany ycur 
mother, Mildred?” 

“ Oh, so very much ! In the society of dear papa, mamma, and 
Helen, my happiness, indeed, will be complete,” replied she, 
eagerly. 

Had not Mildred been absorbed in the prospect of reunion with 
those she loved so well, she would have noted the momentary dis- 
appointment and chagrin which swept over her husband’s expres- 
sive features, as he gazed on the changeful hues of her cheek and 
the sparkling animation of her eye and manner. Yes, she was 
glad, inexpressibly glad, to clasp those dear ones in her arms 
again ; but, could he have read the workings of her heart, he 
would have seen and compared her joy to the eddying circles on 
the bosom of some deep pool or lake, which playfully ripple and 
kiss the bright sunbeam, while the sombre waters beneath slumber 
on in heavy, unruffled gloom. 

“ Write, then, dear Mildred, and invite your friend, if it will 
make you so very happy. I am going to Avington this morning, 
and if you will do so immediately, I can post your note, and Miss 
Campbell will get it earlier than if it went by the bag this even- 
ing,” and Lord Alresford rose, and taking an inkstand and writing- 
case from a distant table, placed them before her. 

Mildred’s eyes mutely thanked him as she took up the pen, and 
commenced writing. One small page was quickly filled, and then 
Bhe paused to consider ; for there was an uncomfortable sensation 
on her spirits, slight though it was, that acted as a drawback on 
the pleasurable feeling with which she summoned her friend to her 
new home. The source of her discomfort soon resolved itself into 
the tone in which the Earl had bidden her write to Helen. Her 
feminine instinct told her that though he had given a cordial per- 
mission, there was some thought which lingered and grated unpleas- 
antly on his feelings. She laid down her pen, and looked towards 
him. He was lounging on the sofa reading a newspaper, which 
concealed his face. In days of yore had anybody predicted to 
Mildred that concern for the Earl’s sentiments would make her 


PIQUE. 


275 


pause in the delightful task of summoning Helen Campbell to her 
side, how incredulous would have been her smile ! 

“ Lord Alresford, are you quite sure that you approve of my 
inviting Helen to spend some time here ? Remember the mystio 
four months are not quite expired,” said she, at length, timidly, 
with a faint smile. 

“ I shall be very glad to see Miss Campbell. I like what little 
I know of her ; and you are aware, Mildred, it was not that I 
objected to her intimacy with you, which induced me to request 
you to postpone your invitation,” replied the Earl ; then, after a 
pause, he added, “ what made you imagine my assent was not a 
hearty one, Mildred ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know, it was a fancy,” rejoined she, assiduously 
resuming her pen. “ I imagine Sir Gerard Baynton will feel as 
much obliged to you as myself for the summons which brings 
Helen Campbell to Amesbury,” continued she, quickly, . for the 
sake of saying something to divert the Earl’s attention from 
herself. 

“ I strongly advise you, Mildred, not to interfere between Sir 
Gerard and your friend. Experience shows that in such cases the 
intervention of a third party almost always does injury. If Bayn- 
ton be really attached to Miss Campbell, leave him to manage his 
own affairs.” 

“ But, if Sir Gerard should be tempted to forget trifling ine- 
quality of station, Lord Alresford, in admiration of Helen’s noble 
character, promise me that you will not combat his wishes ; for I 
know you have great influence with him.” 

“ I certainly will not interfere to thwart his inclinations, espe- 
cially if Helen Campbell returns his affection purely and disinter- 
estedly. But what a long epistle you are writing! ah, I see, Mil- 
dred, you are a good correspondent when you choose. I wonder 
whether you ever neglected to answer any of Miss Campbell’s let- 
ters. May I read ? ” said Lord Alresford, carelessly taking up 
the sheets she had rapidly filled ; for during the preceding conver- 
sation her pen had been busy, though her thoughts wandered 
elsewhere. 

“ Certainly,” replied she, coloring; not for what she had written, 
for Lord Alresford’s name was not mentioned in her page, but 
that her omissions in the affair of the two Venice letters recurred 
vividly to her mind. 

Lord Alresford presently gave back the tiny sheets, without 
comment. Why did he ask to read her letter? Was it a test of 
her sentiments that he wished to make ? Her clear eye lingered 


27(5 


PIQUE. 


on his in search of an explanation ; but as he offered none, after a 
short pause, she folded her note, scaled, directed it, and in a few 
minutes the Earl rose and left the room. 

The next few days passed rapidly away, and yet, spite of her 
joyous anticipations, it was with a sigh Mildred arose on the morn- 
ing of her parents’ and Helen’s expected arrival, and thought that 
all her pleasant tete-a-tete walks and evenings with her husband 
must be suspended. She was beginning so to love and prize his 
society, that the time she now spent with him was looked forward 
to and anticipated as the happiest portion of the day ; and her 
heart throbbed with a pang of impatience when she reflected that, 
for many weeks to come she should only listen to his voice in pub- 
lic, and that others must necessarily divide with her his attention 
and conversation. Scrupulously now did she fulfil all her outward 
duties ; she walked with him, visited his tenantry, was ever at her 
post in the drawing-room, seldom secluded herself, and an inde- 
scribable feeling of irritation took possession of her, that all these 
varied employments were about to be shared by others, though even 
by her parents. During the morning she wandered around the rooms, 
the gardens, and her own boudoir, in a state of restless disquietude. 
She longed to be with her husband ; but according to his usual 
practice, the Earl spent the morning in the library, and she had 
never yet ventured to intrude on his retirement. How contrary 
was all this to the anticipated rapture of her meeting with her 
father, her mother, and Helen ! And yet even now two wills, two 
natures, seemed to animate her bosom ; and sometimes her heart 
beat with delight at the thought of welcoming them, and showing 
all the beautiful things, all the luxuries she was mistress of. As 
for Aglae, she was wild with delight at the prospect of seeing her 
former mistress and Miss Helen again. 

About half-past five in the evening, Lord and Lady Elvaston 
arrived. Mildred laughed and wept by turns, as she felt the arms 
of her gentle mother encircle her, and heard her softly-murmured 
words of affection and love, and then passed from her embrace to 
fall on the neck of her father and Helen. For the moment all her 
sorrows and anxieties appeared lost in the bliss of being the object 
of so much affection ; but soon her gaze wandered, even from her 
loved mother’s face, in search of her husband. He was standing 
near, and immediately approached and spoke to her. Lady Elvas- 
ton listened attentively, and a brighter smile, stole over her feat- 
ures. Who cannot imagine the joyful alacrity with which Lady 
Alresford presently escorted her mother and Helen to their rooms ; 
the hurried endearments which were there again interchanged 


PIQUE. 


277 


the brief, broken queries ; the anxious comments on her pale brow 
and flushing cheeks ; and Mildred’s hasty, unsatisfactory answers, 
and her flight before this storm of questions, to snatch, ii possible, 
one short fragment of repose before dinner, in the seclusion of her 
own apartment. She there flung herself on a couch, and her over- 
wrought spirit relieved itself in tears. She dreaded her mother’s 
rigid scrutiny, for she felt that to her own heart alone could her 
present position be defined ; and yet she was conscious some expla- 
nation must be given, else how could she reconcile the distance 
between herself and the Earl, which Lady Elvaston’s watchful eye 
would not fail to detect, with the repeated assurance she had given, 
that she was content, satisfied with her lot. She knew, also, that 
Aglae’s zeal would outstrip her discretion ; and that, in her anxi- 
ety to do her service, she would pour all the past, which had fallen 
under her personal observation, into Lady Elvaston’s ear ; and Mil- 
dred was too proud to prohibit such a recital. Not that she wished 
her faults and follies concealed from her mother’s knowledge ; but 
there was something sacred in the feelings which agitated her 
heart ; feelings that, under the conviction of her husband’s indif- 
ference, she would rather confide to Helen’s safe-keeping, than to 
her mother ; who, from her age and position, might conceive her- 
self privileged to afford the Earl a clearer insight into her daugh- 
ter’s sentiments than Mildred’s pride could anticipate with com- 
posure. 

For the present moment, however, Mildred dismissed her uncom- 
fortable cogitations, and commenced the important process of dress- 
ing ; and soon, with her beautiful face beaming with smiles, she was 
seated by her father’s side ; who, according to custom, had used 
such celerity in the various operations of his toilette, as to be down 
considerably before the rest of the party. The Earl, Lady Elvas- 
ton, and Helen soon followed. The latter was in raptures with all 
she saw, and laughingly declared that the splendors of Amcsbury 
did more justice to Mrs. Wcdderbourne’s descriptive powers, than 
the stately old lady’s usual narratives of the wonders she witnessed 
in her varied peregrinations. 

Immediately after tea Lady Elvaston, fatigued by her long jour 
ney, arose to retire for the night. Her daughter and Helen accom- 
panied her to her room ; but, tired and weary, she speedily dis- 
missed them both. As soon as Lady Elvaston’s door closed behind 
them, Mildred twined her arm round Helen’s waist, and led the 
way to her boudoir. 

'* Here, my darling, my precious Helen, sit down, and let me 
look at you and rejoice at having found you again. I feci I have 
24 


278 


PIQUE. 


not half greeted you as I ought. Oh ! Helen, the inexpressible 
comfort you would have been to me during these past months ! 
You would have built up my wavering resolutions, and made me 
think as I do now, without the bitter anguish and regret of past 
experiences,” exclaimed she, flinging her arms round Helen’s neck. 

“ Do not speak so bitterly, my own Mildred. Your past expe- 
riences, as you call them, will probably be of more permanent ben- 
efit to you than all the advice either I or all the world could give. 
This pale brow tells me, though, that you have suffered more than 
your letters expressed,” replied Helen, fondly returning her fiiend s 
caress. 

“ Suffered ! Helen, suffering is too feeble a word to express all 
I have endured, and still endure. Do you not remember our con- 
versation on my wedding-day ? Helen, the anguish I anticipated 
has been realized ; yes, more than realized ; and your prediction 
remains yet unaccomplished,” exclaimed she. passionately. 

“ But how is this? I remarked to day, with the utmost joy, the 
excellent outward understanding between yourself and Lord Alres- 
ford. Surely, surely, my darling Mildred, you are not suffering 
the false pride which actuated you before your marriage still to 
shadow your happiness ! ” exclaimed Helen, in a voice of unfeigned 
consternation. 

“ Our present position — what can I liken it to, Helen ? I will 
tell you. It is a fair outside, devoid of inward substance ; a nut 
without a kernel ; a state, false, unnatural, hollow ; a semblance 
of reality, which the first and most fragile obstacle would dissipate 
like vapor before the wind. But, Helen,” continued she, after a 
pause of a second, “ do not think I am going to torment you to- 
night, with a detail of my grievances; I only want you to look 
round my fairy palace, and then you shall be dismissed, dearest, 
to sleep off your fatigues.” 

“Mildred, surely you exaggerate,” replied Helen, decisively, 
without heeding her latter words. “If all were as hollow as you 
represent, I am firmly persuaded that the Earl never would have 
made you his wife. Nothing shall ever convince me that he has 
not truth and reality on his side, whatever may be the misunder- 
standings your jealous dread of unasked-for concession involves.” 

“ Lady Emily Baynton tried to encourage me with something of 
the same assurance ; but then, Helen, comes the bitter thought to 
waft it away that it was I who demanded the fulfilment of cur con- 
tract. Lord Alresford, in his first letter, tacitly relinquished his 
claim. I appealed to his honor, and he gave me his hand ; but 
were the opportunity to come over again, I would act in the same 


PIQUE. 


279 


manner. Ah, Helen, your married life will not be so stormy a 
one as mine. Should you become Sir Gerard’s wife, your prudent 
firmness will save you from the shoals on which my happiness has 
been wrecked. You will also have another aid denied to me ; for 
Sir Gerard’s character is more open, more easily read and learned, 
than Lord Alresford’s.” 

“ Mildred, now I am come to visit you, you must positively not 
encourage any such delusive hopes. Until Sir Gerard Baynton 
gives me some surer sign of preference than mere admiration, I do 
not let my mind dwell on what. I feel would be too great happiness 
for me to expect. Sir Gerard’s wife ought to be a person of much 
higher consequence than nr, oelf, and it would not be a sign of the 
great wisdom you are pleased to attribute to me, to cherish thoughts 
which grow only to sting the unrestrained imagination that gave 
them birth,” replied Helen, with a quiet smile. 

“ Well, Helen, we won’t discuss Sir Gerard more at present, 
only I will give you this piece of information, that wc expect him 
here with Lady Emily next week. Now, look round ; not one 
word of admiration have I received as yet for my bower ! ” 

44 ’T is a shrine fit for a Peri ! will that do, Mildred? ” replied 
Helen, laughingly, rising, and with her arm linked within her 
friend’s, she wandered round the exquisite little apartment. 

“ Scarcely,” replied Mildred. “ 1 expect your admiration will be 
far more exuberant to-morrow morning, when daylight reveals all 
its beauties, and you see my parterres and fountain. To please 
me, Lord Alresford seems to have anticipated every wish the most 
lavish luxury could devise. Oh, Helen, he only withholds what 
would give life and value to his innumerable gifts.” 

“ Well, I diall not give implicit credence to this assertion of 
yours, until my v/wn eyes have witnessed its truth. Do you know, 
you strongly remind me of the child in the old story-book, who 
trembled and dared not for a long time put out his hand and boldly 
seize his cake, because it was stuck with almonds and made to 
look formidable like a porcupine. Now, in my opinion, Mildred, 
had you courage to grapple with these terrible difficulties of yours, 
you would find them imaginary as the child’s fears,” said Helen, 
taking up one pretty thing and then another from the table against 
which they stood. “ What a superb-looxing book,” continued she, 
presently approaching a small stand, on which lay a large volume, 
beautifully bound in vellum, closed with a small gold padlock in 
the shape of a heart, studded with precious stones. 

“ This book has been my great consolation in my solitary hours, 
Helen,” replied Mildred. 44 1 have noted in it every event since I 


280 


PIQUE. 


left Lome ; and a sad record of faults and follies it is,” continued 
she, turning over the pages. “You shall be initiated into its 
mysteries some day, Helen ! ” 

“ Why not now, dear Mildred ? It will spare you the pain and 
trouble of relating the history of the past four months,” replied 
Helen, glancing with intense interest on the close manuscript pages. 

Lady Alresford closed. the book, and for a minute appeared 
irresolute. 

“Well, Helen, you shall take it with you to your room ; on con- 
dition that you will sacredly, jealously guard its contents from 
every eye save your own, and return it to me to-morrow evening. 
I shall be happier, I think, when you know the history of all my 
misdeeds ; though do not let me quite lose your good opinion, my 
Helen,” said she, placing the book in Miss Campbell’s hand,wLile 
tears gathered in her eyes. 

“I am too sensible of my own failings to condemn others; and 
least of all you, Mildred,” replied Helen, affectionately. 

“ Ah, Helen, your affection for me renders you lenient to my 
faults ; though I fear that journal will make revelations of incred- 
ible folly, astounding even to your forbearance. Let me show you, 
however, how to possess yourself of my secrets ; for that little 
golden heart locks them up securely as my own, and only yields its 
treasure to the initiated. You see that small turquoise flower — 
lightly press its anthers together, and the book unfolds its pages to 
you, Helen. Now, try if you understand* the spring.” 

“ Yes, it opens perfectly. What a very ingenious contrivance ! ” 
exclaimed Helen, as her white fingers quickly detached the tiny 
heart. 

“ I hear Aglae's step in the next room ; so she shall go with yoq 
now. She made it her especial request that she might be permitted 
to wait on dear mamma the night of her arrival. But come, first, 
Helen, and see how magnificently I am lodged,” said Lady 
Alresford, entering her bedchamber. 

Helen surveyed, with some wonder and curiosity the large, lofty 
apartment into which her friend led her, with its stately bed and 
rich velvet hangings, its tall pier-glasses, and profusion of chairs, 
tables, couches, and china ; its luxurious toilette and tall blazing 
lights, ready to illumine the couch of the fair young girl by her 
side, who stood laughingly watching her movements. Helen, how- 
ever, thought to herself that were the choice hers, she should still 
much prefer her own snug little apartment at home, with its white 
toilette and simple tent bed, to all this splendor ; and som/} such 
opinion she expressed. 


PIQUE. 


281 


“ And so I think also, Helen ; and even in my most melancholy 
moods am sometimes tempted to laugh outright, when I look round 
on all this splendor,” said Mildred, as she kissed and took leave of 
her friend for the night. 

Eager to commence the perusal of the manuscript, Helen, not- 
withstanding the lateness of the hour, quickly dismissed Aglae, 
and comfortably wrapped in her dressing-gown, slie threw herself 
into an arm-chair, and opened the precious volume. She read, and 
as her eye glanced over page after page, her eloquent features 
expressed sorrow, pity, and sympathy. Many of the entries were 
written in a short, hurried hand, and the page blistered with tears. 
Helen’s cheek flushed with anger and indignation, as she learned 
all her friend had suffered from Colonel Sutherland’s treachery ; 
and her breath came quick and fast as she read Mildred’s ingenu- 
ous detail of her subsequent interview with her husband ; not a 
single fact, however criminating to herself, had she omitted; and 
Helen’s tears flowed as she read her despairing self- accusations. 
Without equivocation or an attempt to justify her conduct, she had 
sincerely recorded the facts of each day as they occurred ; and 
Helen felt, that, however greatly the want of moral firmness was 
to be deplored in Mildred’s character, no one could peruse her 
frank avowals of past error, and of deep affection for her husband, 
without esteeming and loving her in a tenfold degree for her noble 
struggles and aspirations after good. 

We will transcribe, for the reader’s edification, a few passages 
from our heroine’s journal. The following entry was made about 
a fortnight before Helen’s arrival : — 

“ Tuesday, September 5 — Rose at my usual hour, restless and 
languid. Breakfast passed without any remarkable incident. 
Lord Alresford was silent, and I in no mood to exert myself 
There is surely something strange and artificial in the existence I 
now lead. My words and actions rouse no responsive chord within 
my own heart. Nothing kindles interest, and I weary of myself 
and all the world. I had read of such feelings, and now I some- 
times smile to think how eloquently I could descant on the subject 
— I, whom all the world thinks a personage so very prosperous 
and happy. I wonder whether Lord A. ever guesses at what is 
passing in my mind ? Sometimes, after an involuntary fit of 
abstraction, I turn and find his eyes riveted upon me with a kind 
of moody expression on his brow. I suppose he is weary of so dull 
and taciturn a companion ; as he invariably then proposes to read. 
Ah ! if the book might be his heart ! for, ever since my last 
unfortunate attempt at explanation, after our ride to the Chauntry, 
24 * 


282 


PIQUE. 


ho has been so cold, so reserved, though at the same time so very 
kind and considerate, that I cannot help accusing myself of ingrat- 
itude and captiousness in finding fault at all. But, patience ! the 
legend on my coat-of-arms ought to be Queen Mary’s famous 
motto, * Time unveils Truth ; ’ and one day or another my husband 
will know how dearly I would have prized his affection. Breakfast 
over, after wandering round the garden, I sat down and read 
Racine’s ‘ Mithridate.’ French heroes and heroines never speak 
the language of love. However, at luncheon I heartily wished for 
a little of the insensibility of Racine’s heroines, when a note 
arrived for Lord Alresford from W ardour Court. He just glanced 
it over, and laid it beside his plate, and then presently arose to 
deliver a message himself to the groom who rode over with it 
When he returned he told me shortly that business of importance 
for Lady Catherine Neville would prevent him walking with me ; 
and with this abrupt notification he left the room. I felt piqued, 
cut to the heart, and made a hasty retreat to the drawing-room, 
where I busied myself in arranging a basket of flowers just sent in 
by the gardener. Presently Lord A. entered. He stood by me 
for a little time watching my movements. I did not speak ; I 
could not ; a choking sensation seemed to take away my utterance. 

“ ‘ Mildred,’ said he, at length, ‘ why are you so grave ? * 

“ I did not answer, and I fear rebellious tears stood in my eyes. 

“‘When shall we understand each other, Mildred?’ resumed 
the Earl, with increased severity of tone. ‘ You feel yourself 
aggrieved, and justly so, at my excusing myself as your companion 
this afternoon, without assigning a suitable cause ; and yet you 
did not ask me for an explanation. I read immediately what was 
passing in your mind, but resolved to try whether you would be 
candid enough to express it. Here is Lady Catherine’s letter; 
for, in spite of your assumed indifference, you cannot deny that I 
have rightly interpreted your feelings. Oh ! Mildred, reflect how 
precarious must ever be our good understanding if you persist in 
this culpable dissimulation 1 ’ 

“ He then laid the letter on the table and quitted the room. 

** Was this rebuke merited? Lord Alresford accuse me of 
indifference! If he only krew the deep, deep love and reverence 
I bear him, and that not one thought of my erring heart would I 
— now if assured of his affection — voluntarily withhold ! But it 
is too late. I must pay the penalty of my past folly, and sul mit 
as well as I may to a life loveless and solitary.” 

“ Friday, September 8. — Lady Catherine Neville and her friend 
Mrs. Otsvay paid me a visit to-day. What a strange, impulsive. 


PIQUE. 


183 


fascinating oeing Lady Catherine is ! When she raises those dark, 
flashing-looking eyes, language the most persuasive and eloquent 
appears to speak in her glance. Her voice too, at once so soft and 
melodious, so impassioned and earnest when warmed by her sub- 
ject, accords with the almost Eastern voluptuous beauty of her face 
and figure. She talks upon all subjects with infinite point and 
shrewdness. She has evidently read and seen a great deal, and 
her talents are of the very first-rate order. Her manner to the 
Earl is a strange mixture of playful defiance and submissive 
deference. She evidently has the highest opinion of his judgment, 
and sets the utmost value on his approbation. The more I see oi 
her, the less reason do I think I have for entertaining the idea 
which makes me so very miserable, that she wished to exchange 
his guardianship for a dearer connection. Her manner when 
speaking to him is totally disembarrassed, and Lord Alresford, on 
his part, talks and laughs with all the ease and familiarity of old 
acquaintance. He cannot love her. I could not talk so to him ; 
for if he be not indifferent, his case must be parallel with mine. 
But what matters it if, while groping about in the dark to avoid 
an imaginary peril, I have as entirely lost my husband’s heart ? 
Lord A. gave her ladyship a very pressing invitation to visit us in 
the course of a week or two ; which, of course, I was compelled to 
second, so I shall have opportunity for observation. Should, then, 
my fast-fading doubts resolve themselves into realities ? but no, I 
cannot contemplate the agony, the torture such certainty would 
bring. God alone could support me under an ordeal so fearful, — 
that blight of loving with all the spirit’s energy, to reap despair ! 
better, far better, the silence of the grave ! At times, also, I have 
remarked a change sweep over Lady Catherine’s lovely features. 
Has some poisoned fang insidiously pierced her happiness likewise ? 
Once or twice in my presence her light laughter has been arrested, 
and her smiles have disappeared like bright sun-rays behind some 
ominous thunder-cloud. I shall observe, compare, and judge 
impartially ; and the event of the next few months will cast its 
shadow, for good or evil, over my future life. Well may I 
supplicate for a favorable issue! 

“The only scrap of conversation with Lady Catherine I think 
worth recording,. is, that she informed me Mrs. St. Priest is gone 
to visit a friend in Paris, and would be absent four months. Be 
this ai it may, she shall never more have opportunity to play off 
her dangerous wiles upon me; as I fully coincide with Lord 
Alresford’s desire, and intend to drop her acquaintance altogether. 
Her very name makes me shudder, and recalls the precipice, on 


284 


PIQUE. 


the verge of which, the firmness and forbearance of my husband 
alone rescued me.” 

Then came a few brief lines. The character was wavering and 
trembling, and many of the words blotted by tears. 

“ Saturday evening. — To-day all has been dark, cold, dreary, 
as the white shivering mists, which even now as I write gather 
and roll over the distant landscape. I have unwittingly displeased 
my husband — how, I know not. Kind and courteous as ever, yet 
throughout the day there has been a reserve, a reproach, in his 
manner which has almost broken my heart. Twenty times he has 
addressed me as ‘Lady Alresford ; ’ and no one can imagine the 
freezing, cutting accent with which these words leave his lips. 
God grant me patience ! ” 

The last record in Mildred’s diary, every word of which Helen 
read ere she laid her head on her pillow, was the following, written 
the evening before Lord and Lady Elvaston’s arrival. 

“ Tuesday. — I have now to record a narrow escape which hap- 
pened to me this morning ; an escape, from the humiliating 
consequences of which I still tremble, though preserved. After 
breakfast, having seen Lord Alresford set out on horseback for 
Avington, I came to my room, and wishing to make some little 
alterations in this journal, I drew my writing-table near the win- 
dow, and soon became absorbed in my employment. Aglae, who 
is absolutely frantic with joy at the prospect of seeing dear mamma 
and having the house filled with ‘company meanwhile, was busily 
engaged in the adjoining dressing-room in bringing to light a 
quantity of my wedding finery, which, ever since that momentous 
event, has slumbered in peaceful oblivion on the shelves of my 
wardrobe. I suppose I must have been occupied with my pen 
about an hour and a half, when she clamorously besought me to 
inspect a new dress, which she pronounced perfectly charming ; 
and accordingly, to get rid of her importunity, I followed her into 
the dressing-room, leaving my book wide open on the table. I 
could not have been absent more than five minutes, when, to mj 
unspeakable horror and dismay, I heard a step in the boudoir. I 
flew, rather than walked back, and my consternation was not 
diminished when I saw Lord Alresford standing near the table ! 
I felt my cheek flush crimson. Luckily, there was very little 
written on the page, and in rising my pocket handkerchief had 
fallen and concealed even most of that ; but, instead of taking the 
matter coolly, I advanced, and, like a simpleton, confusedly closed 
the book ; and then, doubtless, stood like a culprit with downcast 
eyes, awaiting my doom ; for I felt unspeakably embarrassed. I 


PIQUE. 


285 


conscious that Lord Alresford’s calm, steady, inquiring gazo 
was upon me — yet I was silent ; for an explanation would have 
entailed the evil I sought so awkwardly to avert. 

‘“I merely intruded, Mildred, to give you a letter bearing the 
Stanmore postmark, which I brought with me from Avington. I 
am sorry to have interrupted your occupation,’ said he, at last, in 
those cold, measured tones I so dread. He then, with his look of 
most lofty nonchalance, turned on his heel and quitted the room ; 
and I — 1 >ank on my chair and wept. 

“ Oh, Lord Alresford, when will these mutual heart-burnings 
cease ? When will you give me your heart ? Had you rifled my 
treasured secrets, never could I have ventured more into your 
presence — to be despised, and made, perhaps, the object of your 
compassionate regard ! Oh, mamma! dear, dear Helen ! I have 
need, indeed, of all the love and consolation you both can offer. 
Come and aid me to bear a burden which daily grows more 
intolerable ! ” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

The following morning, Mildred arose refreshed and composed. 
Her dreams had been happy ones ; hope once again agitated her 
heart ; and fresh, bright, and radiant, she descended, and 
greeted her parents with the warmest of affectionate welcomes. 
There was something so familiar, something that vividly recalled 
old times, in seeing them and Helen once more gathered round 
her, which called forth her happiest flow of spirits. Lord Elvas- 
ton, as usual, after taking two or three strides from the table 
to the window and back again, and congratulating his daughter 
on the improvement in her looks, seized his favorite Times , and 
was preparing to make himself exceedingly comfortable over its 
columns, when Mildred playfully snatched it away, vowing that, 
at least for one morning, she would monopolize his undivided 
attention. 

Lord Elvaston laughed, remonstrated, but finally yielded the 
point ; and Mildred, speaking in her most animated accents, was 
oearing away the paper in triumph, when Lord Alresford entered 
the room. She paused, but the good spell was still upon her, and 
she instantly advanced and greeted him more cordially than wag 
tier wont. She thought he looked disturbed, anxious; as the smile 


286 


riQUE . 


with which he met her vanished immediately; and her spirits 
sank, for in spite of herself a foreboding of evil arose in her mind. 

“ What is the matter, Alresford, that you look so discomforted 
this morning?” asked Lord Eivaston, in his blunt manner, shaking 
hands with the Earl. 

Lady Eivaston glanced with some uneasiness, first at her daugh- 
ter, then on Helen. Mildred’s eyes were fixed on her husband, 
and mutely asked the same question as her father. 

“ Merely a letter from Baynton, who is compelled to delay his 
visit to us for a few days,” replied Lord Alresford, evasively. 
“Come, Mildred, will you not take your post and give us some 
breakfast ? ” 

Slowly she walked to her seat. She felt that something more 
than the mere disappointment of Sir Gerard’s visit furrowed her 
husband’s brow ; besides, the unhappy are always timid ; appre- 
hensive lest some worse evil should befall them. 

“ Well, and what detains Baynton? Any mishap in his farm? 
He wrote me, a week or two ago, a most flourishing description of 
his management,” said Lord Eivaston, laughing satirically at the 
idea of Sir Gerard turning farmer. 

“ My dear Helen, pray do not pour all the cream away into the 
water in the teacups,” whispered Mildred, trying to rally, and 
laughing at Helen’s assiduous efforts to lighten her labors. 

“ No ; the truth of the matter is,” resumed Lord Alresford, in 
a low voice, “that Baynton’s letter brings me the painful intelli- 
gence of a hostile encounter having taken place yesterday morning, 
between Col. Sutherland and my young neighbor, Normanton ” 

“ Eh ! what, — a duel ? ” interrupted Lord Eivaston, abruptly. 
“ What was it all about ? Surely Baynton has not been fool 
enough to run his head into the scrape.” 

“ He was Lord Normanton’s second. Being an intimate friend 
he could not refuse that office, after having used the most strenu- 
ous exertion to adjust the quarrel. It is a most deplorable affair; 
and arose. I understand, from some high words which passed be- 
tween Lord Normanton and Colonel Sutherland, whom the former 
accidentally encountered at Moreton,” said Lord Alresford, hastily 
glancing at Mildred’s pallid lips and face. 

Both Lady Eivaston and Helen looked inexpressibly shocked, 
but they had too much womanly tact to notice poor Mildred’s 
agitation. The unconscious cause of Colonel Sutherland’s first 
infidelily to his betrothed, they guessed what her feelings must 
be ; and though Helen leant forward so as to screen her a moment 
from observation, it was not by words her sympathy was expressed. 


FIQUE. 


287 


Lord Elvaston stood in silent cogitation ; his kind, good-humored 
face expressing what it seldom did — perplexity. 

“ You have not yet told us the result of the duel,” said he at 
length. 

Lord Alresford hesitated, and looked at Mildred. Shp struggled 
for firmness, dreading lest her husband should imagine that her 
^motion arose from excessive fear for Colonel Sutherland’s safety. 
She knew herself innocent of any design or wish of supplanting 
Miss Conway; yet the scene at the Nethercote fete weighed heavily 
on her conscience, and brought to her mind, in bitter humiliation, 
the salutary precept, “ Shun even the very appearance of evil ! ” 
She raised her eyes imploringly to her husband’s face. He 
hastened to answer. 

“ Lord Norraanton is badly wounded in the shoulder. I trust, 
not, however, dangerously ; though the surgeons seem to be of 
opinion that his cure will be a tedious one. Colonel Sutherland, 
I grieve to say, received his antagonist’s ball in his side. It has 
lince been extracted ; yet, from the excessive hemorrhage, serious 
apprehensions are entertained as to the result of the operation. 
Baynton, of course, remained for the present with his friend at 
Witham,” replied the Earl, quickly turning aside. 

“ A pretty affair, truly ! Two young men, with headstrong 
passions, choose to shoot at each other, perhaps rob their country 
of a valuable life, — or rather of two, for the survivor, if a man of 
feeling, drags on a miserable existence, haunted by bitter remorse, 
and morally unfit for anything but moping misanthropy, — and 
all in vindication of the shadow men call — honor! It sounds 
inhuman at this moment to utter such a thing, but I will say that 
dastardly fellow, Sutherland, has got what he richly deserves. It 
was always my private opinion that he wanted kicking out of the 
regiment, for his heartless conduct to Mass Conway! ” exclaimed 
Lord Elvaston; in a fume, pacing up and down the room. 

“I am assured, by Sir Gerard, that the immediate cause of the 
quarrel was not his dishonorable trifling with Miss Conway. I 
understand she had absolutely broken off her engagement before 
her brother’s return home ; when, from some deplorable impulse, 
Colonel Sutherland went to Moreton, and insolently refused to 
leave the house without an interview with her. Lady Normanton’s 
nervous dread of a scene unhappily induced Miss Conway’s com- 
pliance, and, in the midst of her conversation with Colonel Suther- 
land, Lord Normanton arrived, to pay his first visit to his mother 
and sisters since his return to England. The sequel of this his- 
tory is easily imagined. Lord Normanton properly insisted upon 


288 


PIQUE. 


Colonel Sutherland’s immediate departure ; he refused, and a 
challenge was the result,” said £ord Alresford, addressing Mil- 
dred, as he drew a chair to her side. 

She felt the kind consideration of his words and manner, and 
her heart thanked him for it. Did he guess her hitter compunc- 
tion, and interpret rightly the sigh which involuntarily arose, as 
she looked back on the thorny, sinuous path she had chosen, in 
preference to the straight, though more abrupt one, which would 
have led her to the same goal in peace and safety ? She smiled as 
he took her little hand in his ; for her life for months past was 
an exemplification of what she had indirectly been the means of 
teaching poor Maude, — of that rare self-possession which great 
sorrow alone can give, of that ready command of the outward signs 
of a spirit at ease, which serves oft but as a glittering robe thrown 
over the wasting wretchedness within. 

“ The consummate villain ! to come amongst us, conceal his 
engagement, and all but publicly deny it! This young Norman- 
ton must be a fine, spirited fellow ; and though I heartily abomi- 
nate affairs of this kind, it will give me infinite pleasure to shake 
him by the hand some day,” exclaimed Lord Elvaston, seating 
himself again at the breakfast-table. 

“ Do not let us talk more on this painful subject. Our discus- 
sion cannot benefit either of the sufferers,” interposed Lady Elvas- 
ton, who marked with painful anxiety the quick nervous tremor 
which every now and then shook poor Mildred’s frame. 

Her wish was obeyed, — breakfast was speedily brought to a 
conclusion, and then Mildred flew to the solitude of her chamber, 
to struggle for composure, and, if attainable, — self- reconciliation. 
She felt stunned by the tragic finale of her brief love-passage with 
Colonel Sutherland, — its baneful shadow still hovered over her, 
though its reality had lt>ng, long fled. 

^ Hasty in her resolves, Lady Alresford determined, though 
fraught with some humiliation to herself, to go at once to War- 
dour Court, and make what reparation she could in the way of 
sympathy to Maude Conway ; who still remained Lady Catherine’s 
guest. Accordingly, accompanied by Helen, she set off after 
luncheon, while her mother strolled through the grounds with the 
Earl. When they arrived at Wardour, a travelling carriage and 
four stood before the door, much splashed, and the horses looking 
jaded and weary, as if having recently performed a rapid journey. 
Lady Alresford and Helen exchanged quick glances of dismay as 
they alighted and entered the house. In the hall they met Lady 
Catherine and Miss Conway. Maude's eyes were red with exces 


PIQUE. 


289 


sive weeping, and her face pale, almost rigid with intense grief. 
She hurriedly exchanged salutations with Lady Alresford, and 
once more throwing her arms round Lady Catherine’s neck, sprang 
into the carriage, which in another instant whirled away. Lady 
Catherine’s lip trembled, and tears rolled plentifully down her 
cheeks, as she silently led the way to the drawing-room. Mrs. 
Otway was there, restlessly pacing up and down, her face the very 
picture of woe and consternation. From her Mildred learned that 
Miss Conway had been suddenly sent for to Witliam ; for an 
unfavorable change having occurred during the night in Lord 
Normanton’s state, he demanded she might be summoned. Lady 
Nor man ton, on the receipt of the express announcing her son’s 
wound, fell into violent convulsions, — this time no imaginary 
ailment, — and had been ever since confined to her bed ; while 
Isabella, having made arrangements to pass the ensuing three 
months in Taris under Mrs. St. Priest’s chaperonagc, could with 
difficulty be induced to delay her journey to nurse her mother. 
An indescribable dread seemed to weigh upon Lady Catherine’s 
spirits, and vainly did Mildred seek for words of comfort and 
hope; but knowing from dire experience that the first gush of 
grief is more easily assuaged when none stand by to witness the 
soul’s prostration, she took her leave ; having first obtained a 
renewal of Lady Catherine’s promise to spend a portion of the 
ensuing week at Amesbury, should nothing unforeseen prevent. 

The next few days glided heavily along ; and though blessed by 
the presence of her parents and dearest friend, they were perhaps 
the most exquisitely painful of any Mildred had yet spent. She 
felt disturbed and humbled by a catastrophe, the issrte of which 
was yet uncertain ; besides, when alone with her mother, a feeling 
of unusual restraint bound her tongue. Upon the subject of the 
duel, and its preceding circumstances, she found it impossible to 
discourse ; and equally did she recoil from any allusion to her 
present position in her husband’s regard. On this latter topio 
Lady Elvaston most judiciously forbore to press her ; either satis- 
fied with tiie result of her own observation, or reassured by her 
long conversation with Lord Alresford. Mildred would almost 
have felt ashamed to own to herself the feeling of relief with 
whijh, early in the following week, she hailed Lady Emily Bayn- 
tou’s vi jit. Her presence rendered conversation more general, and 
made less perceptible, by encroaching somewhat on the easy inter- 
course of the family party, that false position which was her daily, 
hourly bane. Besides this, she had the extreme felicity of seeing 
that Helen’s quiet good sense and talents produced their desired 
25 


290 


PIQUE. 


effect upon her guest. Lady Emily was at first attracted , then, 
as Helen gained on her good opinion, her approbation and friend- 
ship were not long in manifesting themselves; and, ere Sir Ger 
ord’s arrival, she was quite established in his mother’s good graces. 
Not but what there existed a lingering feeling of disappointment 
in Lady Emily that her son had not made a more elevated choice ; 
still she was too good, too truly conscientious, to allow merely 
ambitious views to thwart his happiness. She knew that her son’s 
wealth and position made him a desirable prize for the machina- 
tions of certain match-making young ladies ; but she had witnessed 
the signal defeat of more than one such fair strategist, for Sir 
Gerard persisted in preferring the task of selecting, rather than 
the compliment of being selected. Lady Emily came with the 
intent of judging Helen rigidly, — of bringing her utmost tact to 
her son’s rescue ; should she perceive that his fastidious notions 
of woman’s delicacy and reserve were artfully lulled by the fascL 
nations of an intriguante , eager only for the distinction it was in 
his power to bestow, and caring little for his affection except so far 
as it would promote her object. Helen was not slow in responding 
to the friendly overtures of Lady Emily ; whose kind and thought- 
ful dignity of manner challenged her admiration, and took away 
the feeling of embarrassment she might reasonably have anticipated 
in making the acquaintance of Sir Gerard’s mother. In his letters 
to Lady Emily, her son meanwhile expressed the utmost impatience 
to join the party at Amesbury ; which was soon increased by the 
arrival of Lady Catherine and Mr. Egremont Turville, who required 
little persuasion to become an inmate of the same mansion with 
his fair coiflsin. Lord Normanton’s wound was progressing slowly, 
though favorably, — so much so, that after the lapse of ten days, 
he was able to rise from his bed and spend a portion of each day 
on a couch in the library ; and Sir Gerard spoke hopefully of his 
speedy convalescence. 

Mildred performed her part of hostess to perfection. At once 
graceful, dignified, and prepossessing, not one of the guests divined 
how deep a canker consumed her heart. Her winning smiles and 
exquisite manner made everybody envy the Earl’s felicity. Great, 
indeed, would have been the marvel could they have seen her, 
after one of these brilliant displays, seated uneasily, languidly, 
before her toilette ; impatiently awaiting the moment when she 
might escape from Aglae’s scrutiny, and give herself up to the 
luxury of lonely meditation. Ceasing then to feign, she contem- 
plated her position as it was ; sometimes a glimmering of hope 
would mingle with her bitter musings, and unconsciously impart 


PIQUE. 


291 


a glow of animation to her speaking features ; at others, in her 
fits of lowly humiliation, contrasting herself with the bright, 
radiant, intellectual Lady Catherine, the clouds in her destiny 
would seem to gather, and circle her in unfathomable gloom ; and 
then fervently did she supplicate for strength and submission to 
bear unmurmuringly the hard discipline and burden of life. 
Solaced by the fervor of her prayers, she would then rise and seek 
hci bed, comforted, and prepared on the morrow to renew with 
unabated resolution her routine of duty, with a feeling of half- 
defined confidence at her heart that her vigorous strivings after 
right were not destined to remain unrewarded. 

The afternoon before Sir Gerard Baynton’s arrival, the post-bag 
brought a letter to Lady Alresford from Clara Tennyson. After 
giving a full detail of the pending preparations for her wedding, 
Miss Tennyson concluded her epistle by proposing to pay a flying 
visit to Amesbury, to say farewell previous to this event ; as she 
was staying with her brother at a friend’s house in the neighboring 
county, and would pass through Avington on her road home. 
Mildred, with an amused, puzzled expression of countenance, put 
the letter into the Earl’s hand ; and as he only shrugged his 
shoulders, and made no comment when he gave it back, she sat 
down and penned an answer in the affirmative. The following 
day, as they were just sitting down to lunch, Sir Bichard’s carriage 
drove up to the door, and Miss Tennyson, hanging on her brother’s 
arm, sailed into the room. 

“ Well, my dear Lady Alresford, I am so enchanted to see you 
again ! ” exclaimed she, turning again to Mildred, after she had 
received, and returned the salutations of the party. “ All our 
good folks, I can assure you, have not doffed the sackcloth ; they 
still mourn your absence ! But how beautiful your new home is ! 
Dick and I have been in raptures during our drive through the 
park. My dear lord, we must compare you to some envious 
magician, who carried off the star of our neighborhood, to shower 
upon her the magnificence of Aladdin’s fairy palace,” and Miss 
Tennyson’s eye glanced round the noble apartment in which she 
stood, and then sought a wider range over the valleys and wood- 
lands of the park. 

•* Do you think so, Miss Tennyson ? I fear, then, Lady 
Alresford is lamentably insensible of the wonders I have achieved 
for her ; she takes things, I assure you, far more philosophically 
than Aladdin’s heroine — the princess with the unpronounceable 
name,” replied Lord Alresford, smiling, and turning negligently 
away 


202 


PIQUE. 


“Does she, really ?” responded Miss Tennyson, with a little 
incredulous laugh ; but Mildred here hastily interposed, and 
invited Clara to follow her brother’s example, and take some 
lunch. / 

“Oh, thank you, no! AVe partook of a very late breakfast 
before setting out ; but Dick has such an extraordinary appetite,” 
replied Miss Tennyson, glancing at her brother. “ It is something 
quite ludicrous to see him and Frank Norwood devour, in antici- 
pation of a long day’s run with the hounds ! ” 

“ Mr. Norwood is a hard rider and an indefatigable huntsman. 
Miss Tennyson, and would find little satisfaction in the sylph-like 
repasts you patronize,” rejoined Sir Gerard. 

“ Frank Norwood has promised to hunt only every other day 
during the approaching season. His reckless riding makes me 
shudder; especially as he has already nearly broken his neck 
half-a-dozen times in those odious steeple-chases. I am perfectly 
determined that he shall never ride in another.” 

“ I admire your spirited resolution, Clara. I should advise you, 
however, to put picnics also under the same ban. I know you 
have a weakness for such pastoral treats, and never enjoy them so 
thoroughly as when rendered more delightful and seasonable by a 
previous downfall of rain,” said Lord Elvaston, with good-humored 
pleasantry. 

“ Oh, that unfortunate Fernley expedition ! I believe, Lord 
Elvaston, you will never forget it ; but I appeal to you, Sir Gerard, 
whether, after all, it was not a very pleasant party ? ” 

“ Very much so, indeed, Miss Tennyson. I retain a most vivid 
remembrance of a certain promenade you and I took round a vast 
meadow, which, you know we both agreed at the time, reminded 
us strongly of walking over a wet sponge,” replied Sir Gerard, 
laughing. 

“ Well, at any rate, my dear Clara, I think it is very ungrateful 
conduct to laugh at you for an accident you could not avert. You 
devised a party of pleasure, and it was not your fault if the rain 
came and frustrated your kind intentions,” said Lady Elvaston. 

“ Thank you, Lady Elvaston, for espousing my defence ; for 
even mamma, whenever she has the cramp, vows it is a kind of 
rheumatic affection caught from the damps of Fernley ; though 
every one present can bear me witness that she sat swaddled up 
stiffly in cloaks and wrappers. By-the-bye, you have heard, I 
suppose, that poor Colonel Sutherland, who seemed to enjoy our 
party so much, was reported the day before yesterday to be at hia 
last gasp ? ” 


PIQUE. 


293 


“ Stuff and nonsense ! you know, Clara, we heard afterwards 
that the report was much exaggerated,” interposed Sir Iiichard. 
“ My friend, Danby, rode over to make inquiries at the farm- 
house, where Colonel Sutherland has lain ever since the duel ; and 
there he ascertained that no material change had occurred in his 
situation, which still continued precarious in the extreme.” 

“ Lady Catherine and Miss Campbell must have found a world 
of business to transact this morning at Wardour Court. They 
have been gone upwards of four hours,” remarked Sir Gerard, 
hastily, as he observed Miss Tennyson’s sharp eyes fixed cageily 
upm him. 

“Catherine has her birds and flowers to look after; besides 
which, Sir Gerard, she would doubtless show Miss Campbell her 
pictures, and all the pretty things she has collected at Wardour,” 
said Mrs. Otway, deprecatingly. . 

“ Ladies always contrive to eke out a wonderful portion of time 
in doing nothing,” exclaimed Mr. Turville, in his dry, sarcastic 
manner ; who, since Miss Tennyson’s arrival, had continued to eat 
his lunch in silence, occasionally raising his eyes with a look of 
wonderment to her face. 

“ Who is that dreamy, shy-looking man, who sat next to Lady 
Elvaston, Mildred ? ” asked Miss Tennyson, as they quitted the 
dining-room. 

“ Mr. Egremont Turville ; a cousin of Lady Catherine Neville’s, 
and one of the most popular men in this neighborhood.” 

“Indeed! Does he at all resemble his cousin? I am dying 
with impatience to see this much- vaunted Lady Catherine. How 
do you like her, Mildred ? ” 

“I think report did scarcely justice to her beauty and talents,” 
responded Mildred, decisively. 

“ She must be a great acquisition to you, then,” rejoined Miss 
Tennyson ; and her eyes fixed themselves inquiringly on Lady 
Alresford’s face. 

“ Yes, very. I hope you will find eveything as you like it here, 
Clara,” said Mildred, as she ushered Miss Tennyson to her 
apartment. 

“ Thank you, it seems impossible to want anything,” replied 
Miss Tennyson, quickly, glancing round the room. “ So Helen 
Campbell, you say, is gone with Lady Catherine to Wardour 
Court. Does Sir Gerard Bayn ton’s admiration continue ? ” 

“ He pays her a great deal of attention; but Sir Gerard only 
arrived this morning; so it is impossible to say,” replied Mildred, 
evasively. 


25 * 


294 


PIQUE. 


“ Ah, but men so often are unprincipled enough to amuse them* 
selves in that way without any serious intentions. What does 
Lady Emily say to the prospect of having Helen for her daughter ? ” 
“ I have never heard her express an opinion on a subject upon 
which one probably may never be asked by her son.” 

“ Should Sir Gerard make up his mind to offer to Helen Camp 
bell, it will be the fourth match concluded this year ; for do you 
know, Mildred, I have a strange inkling, nay, one amounting 
almost to certainty, that Dick has taken it into his head to fall in 
love with Caroline Vincent; and if so, the marriage will surely 
take place, for both she and Mrs. Wedderbourne are just the 
people to jump greedily at a baronetcy.” 

“ Opposites always meet, you know ; so perhaps Sir Richard’s 
exuberant spirit and Caroline Vincent’s languid sentiment com- 
bined, may make a very happy couple. Do not be long before you 
join us, Clara, for I want to show you my boudoir and garden 
while a gleam of sun lingers,” said Lady Alresford, as she quitted 
the room. 


CHAPTER XXV111. 

Two days after Miss Tennyson’s arrival found the same party 
assembled at Amesbury ; yet, during this brief period, many and 
varied were the feelings excited amongst Lord Alresford’s guests. 
To the above-mentioned young lady, however, her visit proved a 
source of unmingled pleasure ; when she talked, she found courte- 
ous and patient listeners, for no one appeared inclined to dispute 
or contest her assertions, and therefore she flattered herself that 
her communications and comments were heard with eager interest. 
In the evenings her conversation was chiefly divided between Sir 
Gerard Baynton and Mr. Turville This latter personage, who 
loved anything original, in whatever form or shape it came across 
him, so encouraged Miss Tennyson’s loquacity by a kind of mut« 
deference, throwing in here and there a word, that to his infinite 
amusement, in the fulness of her confidence, she poured into his 
ear, not only her own history, but passages, also, in the lives of 
most of her acquaintance and friends. Mr. Turville’s grave, dry 
manner, and pertinent questions made her feel more at ease than 
Sir Gerard’s lively raillery ; yet still there were moments when she 
could not quite make out her new friend to her satisfaction. 


PIQUE. 


295 


Miss Tennyson contrived to amuse herself to her heart’s content, 
despite the incompatibility of her disposition and habits with those 
of the personages she was called upon for the moment to associate 
with. The only portions of the day she found insufferably tedious 
were those three or four hours which ladies generally spend alone 
before luncheon, over their embroidery and Berlin work ; and truly 
this period is about as dull as can well be imagined. Many an 
unconscious person’s character receives its first wounds from tattling 
scandal falling from pretty lips, acrimonious with ennui , over a 
lady’s morning work-table. However, let the conversation be char- 
itable and entertaiuing as it might, it was all the same to Miss 
Tennyson ; who chafed under the cruel necessity of sitting with 
her needle in her hand, instead of roaming far and wide wherever 
her restless spirit prompted. She found no amusement in needle- 
work ; the same elegant basket, containing the self-same piece of 
soiled canvas, with its one solitary rose, ever apparently destined 
to bloom alone, had been her invariable accompaniment in every 
visit paid during the last three years. To make her position the 
more pitiable, her companions were anything but congenial. The 
Lady Catherine’s society Miss Tennyson found an intolerable 
restraint. She thought her cold, reserved, and haughty ; and not 
all the charm of her beauty could lessen the awe she felt in her 
presence. In Clara’s giddy levity, Lady Catherine at once detected 
a mind unrefined and frivolous, and accordingly she shrank from 
her somewhat hasty overtures, with more real disgust than she per- 
haps would have experienced, had she properly appreciated the 
hearty good-nature subsisting under Miss Tennyson’s off-hand man- 
ner and loud, imperious tones. In her own heart also, Miss Ten- 
nyson accused Mildred of having lost her vivacity ; and perhaps of 
putting on a little more of the stateliness of her new rank, than 
was perfectly warrantable towards an old acquaintance. She was 
surprised — though she scarcely knew why — at the degree of 
friendship existing between Lady Alresford and Lady Catherine. 

Mildred in these few days of unrestricted intercourse with her 
imaginary rival, had learned much that was humiliating to her 
self-esteem ; yet the trial brought balm to the suspicions which so 
long tortured her. Lady Catherine, in a few, eloquent, simple 
words, recounted the foundation, rise, and progress of her friendship 
with Lord Alresford. She spoke of him enthusiastically, as on? 
vpon whose good opinion and esteem she set boundless value. She 
spoke of him unreservedly, without a shadow of embarrassment in 
her words or manners. Mildred glanced on her speaking features, 
on her clear, truthful eye, and inwardly acknowledged — need we 


296 


PIQUE. 


say in a spirit both humbled and contrite — that her own ground- 
less jealousy had alone raised the hideous phantom which so long 
haunted her. As for Lady Catherine, she could not sufficiently 
marvel at the change she witnessed ; the Mildred she now saw 
was a being so totally different from the reserved, capricious Lady 
Alresford of the preceding months. She was amazed at the varied 
extent of Mildred’s acquirements ; and tacitly recognized a mind 
capable of coping with her own, in its most lofty aspirations. Lady 
Alresford’s beauty now assumed a softer character, and she was 
never weary of watching the seductive grace of her manner ; yet 
with her quick perception, Lady Catherine instantly detected the 
strangeness of her demeanor towards the Earl ; to him alone wa3 
her manner reserved and shy, and at times even cold and uncer- 
tain. She felt there was a hidden spring of bitterness, imeorapre- 
hensible to her, in that lot which in her moments of anguish she 
had dared to contrast with her own ; and once, and only once, she 
hinted her suspicion to Helen Campbell ; but the allusion seemed 
so painful to the latter, that she never more reverted to the subject. 

As may be supposed, the society of Miss Tennyson, overflowing 
in her way with happiness and prosperity, was not likely to prove 
over- acceptable to the trio of friends ; and the certainty that she 
was to depart on the following day would have acted upon them as 
a very enlivening circumstance, had it not also brought the pain- 
ful recollection that all the party was likewise to disperse. Lord 
and Lady Elvaston, anxious to take advantage of the mild autum- 
nal weather, had also fixed their departure on the morrow for a 
month’s sojourn at Brighton, before settling for the winter with 
their daughter at Amesbury. Mildred, therefore, was not even in 
her usual spirits, sad and silent she pursued her occupation. The 
day had turned out slightly rainy, and as frequent showers ren- 
dered it impossible to wander far from the house, the ladies in the 
afternoon again assembled in the drawing-room. Lady Catherine 
took up a book, and threw herself on a couch ; Helen kept up a 
desultory conversation with Miss Tennyson, while Mildred sat 
down to answer some notes. 

These dispatched, she silently took up her work ; and insensibly 
her .thoughts reverted to the morrow, when Lord Alresford, Helen, 
and herself would remain the sole inmates of the house. On what 
terms would the Earl again meet her after their long suspended 
private intercourse ? and how was her husband affected towards 
Helen Campbell? Mildred could not satisfactorily answer this 
latter question. Lord Alresford’s manner to her friend was always 
courteous; but at times there was a distant coldness in his modo 


PIQUE. 


297 


of addressing Helen, perfectly incomprehensible. Often, too, he 
appeared to weigh her words with sharp scrutiny; and she 
remarked more than once, when walking alone with Helen, that if 
they chanced to meet the Earl, he would strike into an opposite 
path to avoid the meeting. What did this conduct portend? so 
different to Lord Alresford’s cordial, friendly reception of those he 
esteemed. The painful solution forced itself on Mildred’s mind 
that Helen was only tolerated by the Earl ; not yet valued for her 
own intrinsic merit. In vain she sought the cause of this appar- 
ent dislike ; two reasons only suggested themselves ; either that the 
Earl’s displeasure at female friendship was unconquerable, or that 
he disapproved of Helen’s presuming to aspire to the hand of Six 
Gerard Baynton. 

The sound of the sharp clapping of the door caused Lady Alres- 
ford presently to break off from her reverie, and look up ; wheD 
she beheld Miss Tennyson standing before her, armed with cloaks 
and umbrellas, ready equipped to brave the inclemency of the 
weather for a walk in the park. As soon as Clara vanished, Lady 
Catherine and Helen threw aside their books and gathered round 
Lady Alresford. The rain still continued to fall at intervals; but 
so softly that it more resembled a heavy, drizzling mist. All the 
gentlemen were still absent; Sir Gerard had carried off Lord 
Elvaston to his farm, the others were gone out to shoot. Lady 
Elvaston, Mrs. Otway, and Lady Emily Baynton were likewise 
occupied in their own apartments, so that the triad of friends, 
much to their satisfaction, were left for a considerable time to their 
own devices. 

In about two hours Miss Tennyson returned, having enjoyed, as 
she declared, a most delicious walk. After fidgeting about the 
room for some half hour, descanting upon Mr. Frank Norwood’s 
happy qualifications, she suddenly exclaimed, — 

“Oh, Mildred, as it is only just four o’clock, pray put down 
your work and perform your promise of taking me into every nook 
and corner of this palace of yours. Mamma and Mrs. Wedder- 
bourne would lift up their eyes in astonishment, did I conclude my 
visit without surveying its wonders. Indeed, I should get quite 
renowned as a woman devoid of a spark of curiosity ; and as noto 
riety is always disagreeable, you must really consent, Mildred, and 
introduce me immediately to your bower ; which, you know, I did 
not see on the day of my arrival.” 

Lady Alresford, always kind and ready to oblige, arose, laid 
aside her work, and followed Miss Tennyson out of the room. 
Little did she anticipate the amount of exercise before her, or the 


293 


PIQUE. 


extent of Clara’s indefatigable curiosity. Not content with walk- 
ing through the picture-gallery and principal apartments, every 
closed door in her progress excited her irresistibly to explore its 
bearings ; every staircase, however narrow, inspired her with the 
most violent impulse to mount ; even Mildred herself had never 
before penetrated so far into her new home. At length, to Lady 
Alresford’s unfeigned satisfaction, with the exception of the wing 
in which her own apartments were situated, the mansion was 
explored from the housekeeper’s room to its uppermost chambers. 
Gladly, therefore, she bent her steps towards her boudoir. 

** Where does that door lead to, Mildred? ” asked Miss Tenny: 
son, suddenly pausing, and pointing to a door- way almost concealed 
under a projecting arch, at no great distance from the boudoir. 

“ To Lord Alresford’s private rooms,” replied Mildred continu- 
ing her progress. 

Miss Tennyson, however, stood still, and fixed her eye resolutely 
on the shining mahogany door. 

“ I should so like to see Lord Alresford’s private room ; dear Mil- 
dred, surely you can gratify my curiosity and take me in. I often 
penetrate into Dick’s sanctum ; but as for that, so all the world 
might at any time, and only be rewarded for their pains by the 
edifying spectacle of two or three old racing calendars on the table 
mixed up with a queer jumble of fishing-tackle, powder-flasks, 
caricatures, unanswered letters, a Bell's Life stuffed in an arm- 
chair near the fire, and a pair of old boots roasting within the 
fender. The Earl is from home, therefore, I am sure, I have your 
consent, Mildred ; ” and before Lady Alresford could interpose, to 
her unspeakable consternation, Miss Tennyson flung the door wide 
open. 

“ My dear Clara I must entreat, nay, I request you most per- 
emptorily, not to enter this room. Lord Alresford would be exces- 
sively displeased, and most justly so, at our intrusion here during 
his absence,” said Mildred, as she saw Clara unceremoniously 
usurp a privilege that she had not yet once availed herself of. 

“ Displeased ! You cannot be serious, Mildred,” responded Miss 
Tennyson, retreating a few steps towards Lady Alresford, who 
stood on the threshold of the door ; then, immediately bounding 
forwards again into the room, she exclaimed — “ what a splendid 
prospect his lordship has ! It quite takes away one’s breath with 
admiration ” 

“ Clara, come away, I beseech,” interrupted Mildred, earnestly; 
though her own eye wandered with eager interest. 

The room was a moderately-sized one, with a deep bay-window 


PIQUE. 


299 


commanding an extensive view. A Turkey carpet covered the 
floor, and curtains of heavy crimson and blue tapestry somewhat 
softened the glare of light pouring in from the window. On one 
side of the room folding-doors, slightly ajar, opened into the Earl’s 
dressing-room, and a few choice paintings hung on the opposite 
wall. An oblong library-table stood in front of a blazing fire, 
upon which lay several books, an open blotting-case, and various 
writing materials. The chairs, escritoire, and book-shelves were 
of dark polished oak ; though nothing could be more simple and 
unpretending than the furniture and arrangement of the room. 

“ Upon my word, Mildred, I never saw a more exact likeness of 
yourself than this ; pray, grant me a few brief moments to admire 
and gaze upon you,” exclaimed Miss Tennyson, laughingly point- 
ing to a portrait hanging over the fireplace. “ Really, what a gal- 
lant man your liege lord must be ! I protest here is another min- 
iature of your fair self. I wonder, when I have been married five 
months, whether Frank Norwood will think my picture worth 
enshrining so carefully.” 

Mildred’s curiosity was now fairly aroused. She was not aware 
that the Earl possessed her portrait ; and soon, with a beautiful, 
changeful color flitting and deepening on her cheek, she stcod by 
the side of her pertinacious guest. The framed portrait she then 
at once recognized as having been the property of Lady Elvaston ; 
who had, doubtless, presented it to the Earl. The picture under- 
neath was a small medallion portrait of herself, set round with 
pearls, painted about two years after her betrothal to Lord Alres- 
ford. It was many years since she last gazed upon it, but yet 
tears sprang to her eyes as she vividly recalled the little scene its 
presentation to him gave rise; her childish bashfulness and reluc- 
tance to venture on so momentous an undertaking, until at length, 
encouraged by her mother, she timidly tendered it. She recollected 
then, how her young heart thrilled with joy and pride at the man- 
ner in which her offering was received — at the assurance which 
then fell from the Earl’s lips, that nothing should ever induce him 
to part with this, the first token of her love. She saw he had 
remembered his pledge ; aud her own faithlessness in the affair of 
the ring (which a few days after receiving the portrait, he placed 
upon her finger) smote with fresh compunction on her conscience. 
Then, for some few minutes, she stood sad and absorbed; her 
emotion, luckily, unobserved by Miss Tennyson ; who, now that 
she had lured Lady Alresford into the apartment, felt all scru- 
ples about the propriety of her intrusion vanish, and was amus- 
ing herself by calmly passing the pictures in review. At length 


300 


PIQUE. 


her eye rested on the folding-doors, and, in another instant, she 
darted through them into the Earl’s dressing-room. The noise 
caused Lady Alresford to turn round. She felt excessively pro- 
voked ; yet, at the same time, amused at Miss Tennyson’s reckless 
audacity. As Mildred was well aware expostulation would be lost 
on the pertinacious Clara, she merely reminded her of the lateness 
cf the hour, and tried to lure her away, by promising to show her 
something better worth looking at in her own apartment. Clara, 
however, turned a deaf ear to her bribe ; and Mildred could have 
wept wich shame and vexation at the unpleasant position her 
guest’s levity had betrayed her into. Miss Tennyson approached 
the dressing-table. 

“ I perceive,” exclaimed she, loudly ; “ the Earl, with all his 
handsome looks, is not half such a fop as that brother of mine. 
Mercy upon me! you should only see Dick’s toilette, with his 
pomades, essences, and pomatum for his hair ; which I sometimes 
tell him he anoints to such good purpose as to convey to my mind 
a tolerable good notion of what a Nubian savage is like! I 
suppose that door opposite communicates with your apartments, 
Mildred?” 

Lady Alresford raised her eyes to the window ; one glance at 
the scenery without showed her that it did. 

“ Now, dear Mildred, if you are not tired, we will go to the 
boudoir. His lordship will never divine the visit we have paid to 
his apartments,” exclaimed Miss Tennyson, after vainly awaiting 
Lady Alresford’ s answer. 

Mildred, only too delighted to carry her off, as she was in 
momentary fear of the Earl’s return, immediately professed her 
willingness to adjourn to the boudoir ; inwardly resolving that 
nothing should ever tempt her to play the part of cicerone to M iss 
Tennyson again; when, to her dismay, she heard Lord Alresford’s 
step in the corridor. She knew that there was now no chance of 
escaping undetected from the apartment. What would the Earl 
think of her prying intrusion during his absence? for in Miss 
Tennyson’s presence it was impossible to explain how the circum- 
stance happened. For a minute the strongest possible impulse 
possessed her to flee ; or, at any rate, to make the attempt. Aa 
for Clara, she laughed, evidently thinking their sudden discomfit 
ure an amazing good joke. Lord Alresford paused at the door, 
and gazed in perfect astonishment when he beheld the occupants 
of his room. He looked first at his wife’s flushed cheek, then in 
the face of her companion. Mildred stood silently, without 
attempting an explanation ; and for once Clara’s undaunted spirit 
came to her rescue. 


PIQUE. 


301 


“I dare say your lordship feels rather surprised at seeing me 
here,” exclaimed she, without the slightest hesitation ; for by the 
smile of amusement which immediately sprang to the Earl’s lip, 
she saw that his threatened displeasure at their intrusion was 
dissipated ; “ but having been all over the house with Lady 
Alresford, she could not resist my entreaty to be admitted to a 
glimpse of these exquisite pictures. You know, Lord Alresford, 

I pique myself on my powers of persuasion, therefore I trust you 
will pardon my curiosity.” 

“ Certainly ; and, moreover, I must be allowed also to express 
my gratitude for the flattering surprise of finding my room honored 
by Miss Tennyson’s presence ! ” 

Clara cast a triumphant glance at Lady Alresford, and then 
hastily exclaimed, — 

“ Mr. Norwood has some fine pictures at Chartleigh, but they 
are not to be compared to these. I cannot regret my intrusion, 
as it has procured me a sight of them,” added she, observing that 
Mildred evidently did not intend to come forward to her aid. 

“ There are some equally good pictures by the same artists in 
the gallery,” replied Lord Alresford* coldly. “ How did you 
discover these half-dozen paintings, Miss Tennyson ? ” 

Clara colored, and bit her lip. 

“ I was attracted by that admirable likeness of Lady Alres- 
ford,” replied she, evasively, after a short pause. 

“ Well, Miss Tennyson, I am glad you approve of my pictures, 
as there is really nothing else here to repay the trouble you have 
taken. But I am at your command, should you desire to inspect 
any other object in this apartment,” added the Earl, with a smile. 

“ Oh no, I thank you. Mildred has been most kind and indul- 
gent, and has exhibited everything she thought likely to give me 
the slightest gratification,” rejoined Clara, hastily, for once feeling 
herself out of place. 

Lord Alresford smiled. 

«I am sorry Lady Alresford has forestalled me in this pleasant 
task, Miss Tennyson ; but I dare say she has done the honors 
better than I should, having so very familiar an acquaintance 
with everything the room contains likely to interest you,” said 
the Earl, glancing archly at Mildred. 

Miss Tennyson hastily drew out her watch. 

“ Five o’clock,” exclaimed she, making a hurried retreat 
towards the door. “ Mildred, do you know I am beginning to 
despair of ever catching a glimpse at your boudoir ? I must say 
good-byt now, or my maid will be in convulsions at the sight of 
26 


302 


PIQUE. 


my straight curls. I suppose the rain spoiled your sport this 
afternoon, Lord Alresford?” said she, opening the door. 

“ I have not quitted the house since last I had the pleasure of 
seeing you. . Sir Gerard and Lord Elvaston are not yet returned 
from the Chauntry,” replied the Earl, laughing. 

Miss Tennyson uttered some expression of astonishment, des- 
canted in a few words on the mildness of the weather, and then 
closed the door and disappeared. Mildred would have given 
much to follow her, hut she felt that her hasty retreat would 
probably be displeasing to the Earl, as well as appear strange in 
the eyes of the giddy Clara. She stood, therefore, silently by the 
fire, leaning against the mantel-piece, with a very grave face, — 
feeling at times half inclined to laugh, half inclined to weep. 

“I see by that puzzled look of yours, Mildred, that you are 
striving to account to me for your presence in this room. I have 
divined the reason already ; the fact is, you did not bring Miss 
Tennyson here, but she brought you, — is it not so ? ” said Lord 
Alresford, presently, in a tone of great amusement. 

“ Yes, 1 believe this is # true statement of the case,” replied 
Mildred, smiling. 

“But you came only on the supposition that I was from 
home.” 

“ I feel greatly distressed at our intrusion, Lord Alresford. I 
vainly besought Clara to refrain from entering this room, but she 
persisted in disregarding my entreaties. I trust you are not dis- 
pleased ? ” said Mildred, looking anxiously on the Earl’s rather 
clouded brow. 

“ Oh, certainly not. It was, nevertheless, a great piece of 
impertinence on Miss Tennyson’s part,” replied Lord Airesford, 
pointedly, entering his dressing-room. 

Mildred wondered whether she was to take this as a sign of 
dismissal. She, however, still lingered; for the Earl’s tones 
were cold, and she had now the most intense horror of anything 
approaching a misunderstanding. Presently he returned. She 
still stood by the fire. For some minutes neither spoke. 

“Why are you so silent, Lord Alresford? Perhaps you find 
me- in your way, and I had better leave you,” said Mildred, at 
length, tears of wounded pride springing to her eyes at the indif- 
ference the Earl manifested on their first private interview for so 
long a period. 

“ Stay, Mildred ; you know that these suppositions of yours 
are perfectly unreasonable. I am vexed, annoyed beyond measure, 
that you should think it necessary to apologize for your presence 


PIQUE. 


303 


here, — that you should he so absurd, so heartless, as actually to 
talk to me of intrusion. Mildred, can you find no other way to 
mark your indifference save by this almost insulting reserve ?” 

Never before had she seen him so angry for so slight a cause. 

“ 1 ndeed, Lord Alresford, your accusation of heartlessness is 
unmerited. I was wrong to allow this foolish feeling of embar- 
rassment to ” 

“ Embarrassment ! What cause have you for embarrassment, 
and with me, Mildred?” asked the Earl, peremptorily, bending a 
searching glance on her face. 

“ I feel so powerless to requite your goodness and indulgence.” 

“ Rather say, conscience reproaches you for your wavering, 
undecided course, Mildred. You hide from me feelings which it 
is your bounden duty to reveal. You cannot bear my scrutiny, 
therefore you shun me ; or else, wherefore is it that we have only 
met in public during the past fortnight ? ” 

“ Surely I am not to blame for this, my lord,” murmured 
Mildred. 

“ Did you ever express the slightest desire to see me, Mildred? 
Even now, I owe your presence to an accident, which you consider 
it necessary to deplore. Two motives can alone prompt your total 
evasion of the terms of concord and amity on which, immediately 
after our marriage, we agreed to live. Either you do care for me, 
and are therefore keeping up a culpable reserve, or you regard 
me with absolute, frigid indifference.” 

Mildred buried her face in her hands. She trembled, for the 
words sounded strangely from the Earl’s lips. Eagerly did she 
listen and hope for that one little sentence, that avowal of affection 
on his part, which would have unlocked the fountain of her heart ; 
but it came not. Silently Lord Alresford stood, the cloud still 
resting on his brow. She had never before seen him so hard to 
be conciliated ; even her tearful eye and pale cheek seemed to 
have lost their accustomed power. She could not bear to leave 
him in anger, yet she saw he was resolved to make no overture at 
reconciliation. She approached, therefore, and putting her hand 
in his, timidly raised her eyes with a supplicating expression to 
his face. 

“ If you will forgive my waywardness this once, I will promise 
never more to offend. Believe me, I am very, very grateful ! ” 
said she, in faltering accents. 

“Oh, Mildred! how many more times will you promise this? 
Now that you have satisfied your conscience, and made some con- 
cession, I suppose you are going! ” said Lord Alresford, in a tone 
of sorrowful reproach, still holding her hand. 


304 


PIQUE. 


u No ; I will go or stay, as you desire.” 

“ Then stay. Do you remember the day when you gave me 
this medallion, Mildred?” said Lord Alresford, after an interval 
of silence. 

“ Perfectly,” replied she, taking it from his hand. “ This tiny 

portrait strongly reminds me of my past delinquencies ” she 

hesitated and colored. “ Lord Alresford, will you never restore 
the ring that you gave me in exchange for it ? ” asked she, with 
emotion. 

“ Why should I give back that which you care not for, Mildred ? 
You rejected and esteemed it of so little value ” 

“Nay; if I thought so, should I now ask for it again?” 
exclaimed she, imploringly. 

“ Some day, perhaps.” 

“I see you are resolved not to listen to me, Lord Alresford,” 
said she, resentfully. 

“ Answer me, Mildred ; if you prize not this,” and the Earl 
pointed to the wedding-ring on her finger, “ of what value can 
the other — once intended as its mere symbol — be to you? ” 

She colored deeply. 

“ Give it to me again, if only as a sign, a pledge, that you have 
forgotten and forgiven the past,” at length rejoined she, earnestly, 
hastily turning away. 

“Willingly; on these terms I cannot hesitate,” said Lord 
Alresford, passing into the adjoining room, and opening his 
dressing-case. “Come hither, Mildred; come and take the ring 
yourself from the place in which it has lain ever since I rescued 
it from the hands of Colonel Sutherland. Are you still afraid of 
intruding ? ” added he, sarcastically, as he perceived that she did 
not immediately obey his summons. 

In a minute she stood beside him; and soon the ring sparkled 
on her finger. A weight seemed removed from her heart; for 
even the very bitterness of his reproach soothed. He stood by 
her while she talked for the next half-hour with an ease she 
would have before declared impossible, as she laughingly turned 
over the contents of his dressing-case, every now and then raising 
her eyes to his, beaming with the radiance of hope. He did not, 
could not join in the feelings which prompted her light-hearted- 
ness ; and perhaps even she, in a little longer, would have found 
it impossible to dissemble, and the dressing-case might have been 
pushed aside for a more thrilling theme, had not the Earl’s valet 
entered to apprize his master that it was time to commence his 
toilette operations to meet his guests at dinner. Mildred hastily 


PIQUE. 


305 


arose, for she too had forgotten the hour, and quitted the room, 
as the hands of the clock pointed to half-past six. 

When Lady Alresford entered the drawing-room half an hour 
afterwards, the Earl was there alone ; as Sir Gerard’s pertinacity 
in exhibiting his agricultural progress had, for once, foiled her 
father’s habitual punctuality. She thought he still looked very 
grave ; nor did he respond to her trifling query, as she advanced 
and stood by his side, with his accustomed promptness. Mildred 
felt a kind of intuitive instinct that a crisis in her fate was at 
hand. Had she trifled with her husband to the extent of liia 
forbearance ? She knew the determination of the Earl’s character, 
and what if he should now decide to leave her to her own vacil- 
lation and too tardy repentance ? for, from her mother’s lips, she 
had learned that a high diplomatic mission abroad had been again 
tendered for his acceptance. One by one, however, her guests 
now entered into the room, and the review of the apprehensions 
which assailed her must be postponed for future meditation. 

The evening passed drearily away. Mildred was in no mood 
to exert herself ; and the prospect of their approaching departure 
appeared to check the vivacity of the party. Miss Tennyson, her 
brother, and Mr. Turville, chiefly sustained the conversation at 
dinner ; for the circle was not swelled on this last day by any 
stranger guests. 

Meanwhile, Sir Gerard and Helen, as may be supposed, were 
not in the merriest of moods at the thought of their speedy 
separation. His attentions were now so open and marked, that 
with all her retiring modesty, Helen could not deny to herself 
the happy consciousness that she was beloved ; and the frank 
though timid pleasure with which she received Sir Gerard’s 
devotion, rendered her unspeakably dear to him. With that 
undefined sensation at heart, which made her feel restless and 
unhappy without exactly knowing wherefore, Helen retreated 
from the fling of Miss Tennyson’s lively pleasantries, and took a 
distant seat near the window which opened into the conservatory. 
Here she was joined by Lady Catherine, and on Sir Gerard’s 
appearance in the drawing-room, he likewise drew a chair near 
them. Mildred having exhausted every available subject of con- 
versation with Miss Tennyson, and being resolved that she should 
not victimize Helen, opened the piano, and there kept her engaged 
for some time, aided by good Mrs. Otway, who, a little awe- 
struck and amazed at Clara’s showy attempts, sat by her in mute 
attention. 

“ You know we return to the Chauntry to-morrow, Miss Camp 
26 


30G 


PIQUE. 


bell,” said Sir Gerard, abruptly, when Lady Catherine an a signal 
from Mildred, arose and joined her at the piano. 

“Yes; I am very, very sorry.” She paused, thinking, per- 
haps, that she had said too much, and then added, with a slight 
blush, “ You know, Sir Gerard, every one must regret the loss of 
Lady Emily’s society.” 

“ You admire and love my mother, then, Miss Campbell ? ” 

“Not to feel for Lady Emily the most lively affection and 
admiration after all her kindness, would indeed be ungrateful,” 
replied Helen, warmly. 

“ Then, will you not consent speedily to visit her at the Cha in- 
try ? How happy would my mother be always to have such a com 
panion ! Do you not feel the heat of the room intolerable, Miss 
Campbell ? Let us stroll round the conservatory,” added Sir 
Gerard, after a pause. 

She silently arose. 

“ Helen, you will become our guest ? Perhaps in the midst of 
the dear, old familiar scenes, I may take courage, and learn from 
the lips of my former friend and playfellow, whether the Chauntry 
is ever to be to me what my brightest visions of happiness have 
dared to picture. Helen, you will come ? ” and Sir Gerard took 
and retained her hand in his. 

The beautiful color glowed on Helen’s cheek. Every pulse 
fluttered. She felt that she was beloved, and a bright smile parted 
her lips. The shadowy obscurity around veiled her features, and 
fearful for the moment of trusting her voice, she walked on in 
silence. Sir Gerard impatiently reiterated his question. 

“ If Lady Emily invites me,” at length replied she, in a soft 
low voice, hesitatingly. 

“ Then you will come, Helen, when my mother bids, and stay 
until I give you leave to depart,” replied Sir Gerard, with a smile. 

“ Not if you turn out a very strict jailer,” responded she, with 
a light laugh, immediately taking up his tone. “ How exquisite 
yonder group of the dhaturas look in this glancing light ! do they 
not, Sir Gerard ? The flowers at this distance appear like bells of 
sculptured ivory.” 

“ Yes. Lady Alresford has displayed great taste in the arrange- 
ment of her flowers. She possesses, indeed, the most exquisite 
tact for making everything around her beautiful and happy ; and 
yet, Helen, — I fear, though, I am going to make a very imperti- 
nent speech, — I desire you not to take your ideas of matrimonial 
felicity from your friend. Most men would be far more exacting 
and jealous of their wife’s smiles, than Alresford seems to be.” 


PIQUE. 


307 


“Upon my word. Sir Gerard, it must indeed be a strange, 
exacting disposition that finds fault with a being like Mildred/* 
replied* Helen, beuding with heightened color over a beautiful rose 
half blown, while her fingers lightly strayed amidst its foliage. 

“ I am very much mistaken, if Lord Alresford does not find 
fault, however. You remember their variable courtship, Miss 
Campbell, and that sad affair with Colonel Sutherland. What 
now must be Lady Alresford’s feelings? though, to a certain 
degree, the innocent cause of the late disaster.” 

“ Hush, I implore you, Sir Gerard,” hastily exclaimed Helen, 
in alarm, as she heard a hasty step down one of the sidewalks of 
the conservatory ; and soon after Miss Tennyson made her appear- 
ance, wearied and heated by her exertions at the piano, and 
eagerly seeking refreshment, as she said, in. the cool temperature 
around. 

Sir Gerard looked inexpressibly provoked, and after a few min- 
utes led Helen back into the drawing-room ; but, unfortunately, 
no fresh opportunity occurred to renew their tete-a-tete ; as after a 
little more music, the ladies, remembering the long journey on the 
morrow, made an early retreat ; despite Miss Tennyson’s vocifer- 
ous assurances, that, so far as her personal comfort went, it was 
immaterial to her whether she spent the following day bowling 
along the high roads, or enjoying the luxury of domestic quiet at 
home. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

It was little past ten o’clock when Miss Campbell, accompanied 
by Lady Catherine, entered her room. The latter had greatly 
attached herself to Helen. She admired the simple, though strong 
decision of her character ; and perhaps its very contrast with Lady 
Catherine’s own ardent, imaginative temperament, enhanced the 
attraction. A cheerful fire blazed in the grate, and the two, draw- 
ing their chairs close r r und the hearth, extinguished their candles, 
and settled themselves comfortably for one of those important talks 
in which young ladies delight. The fire light diffused a cheerful 
ruddy glow over the apartment ; and all things around wore that 
air of solid comfort which can alone be enjoyed in the well-built, 
Well-furnished rooms of old England. 

Helen listened with deep interest to Lady Catherine’s animated 


308 


PIQUE. 


i 


descriptions of character, and frequent praise of Lord Alresford. 
From the first, she had rejected the notion that any other tie, save 
one of warm friendship, founded on mutual esteem and adnffration, 
united Lady Catherine to the Earl ; and this conviction was now 
strengthened and confirmed by the result of her own observation. 
Helen, besides, felt an inward assurance, from words accidentally 
dropped from time to time by Lady Catherine, that the cloud which 
often shadowed her new friend’s brow, arose from some secret 
attachment she had formed abroad. Lady Catherine, in all their 
conferences together, studiously turned the conversation from her- 
self ; never admitting the possibility that her heart could bestow 
itself on any one, and seldom alluding to her residence abroad. 

Helen and her friend had been talking together for about half an 
hour, — Mildred, her husband, and Sir Gerard Baynton, being the 
prominent subjects of discussion, — when, after a smart rap at the 
door, Lady Catherine’s maid entered with a letter, or small packet, 
in her hand. Wllmot, though a very old and faithfully attached 
servant, was never remarkable for amenity of manner or sweetness 
of visage, and now her features were pinched up into very unequiv- 
ocal indications of discontent. 

“ This letter, or whatever it may be, my lady, was left for you 
about an hour and a half ago, by a person who requested to speak 
with me, and gave very particular injunctions that it should be 
delivered without delay. I told the man, flatly, that I could not 
undertake to give the letter to your ladyship before you retired for 
the night ; but here it is, my lady ; a soiled, dirty thing, scarcely 
fit to present to your ladyship.” 

“ Very well, Wilmot; you did quite right to receive it,” replied 
Lady Catherine, carelessly, taking a little square packet from her 
maid. 

“ If I might offer a suggestion, Lady Catherine, I should caution 
you against opening that envelope. There seems a box, or some- 
thing hard, inside. In Italy, one has heard of strange presents 
having been sent to ladies. Will not your ladyship allow me first 
to examine it ? ” exclaimed Wilmot, hastily, seizing her mistress’s 
arm. 

“No. I dare say its contents are perfectly harmless, Wilmot. 
Should I require assistance, you see Miss Campbell is at hand, so 
I need not detain you here any longer,” replied Lady Catherine, 
with visible effort, suddenly putting down the packet on her knee. 

Wilmot murmured something to herself; and then, with evident 
reluctance, obeyed her mistress, and quitted the room. As soon 
as the door closed Lady Catherine turned, and cast a long, search- 


PIQUE. 


309 


ing glance on her companion. Helen, with an intuitive feeling of 
delicacy, immediately arose and occupied herself at the table close 
at hand. She heard the slight crash of the paper as the envelope 
of the letter yielded to Lady Catherine’s impetuous touch, and 
immediately afterwards a low exclamation, either of pain or aston- 
ishment, made her hastily turn again towards her friend. By the 
light of the fire she then saw something glittering glide from the 
envelope over Lady Catherine’s white gown to the floor. Helen 
sprang forwards to restore it ; but Lady Catherine, with a face 
pale as ashes, hastily forestalled her, and hid the object in her 
bosom. 

“ Dear Lady Catherine, I fear you are ill,” said Helen, quickly. 

“ Do not be frightened, Helen ; I shall be better directly,” 
replied Lady Catherine, rapidly, as she saw Miss Campbell’s eye 
glance towards the bell. 

Astonished beyond measure, Helen sat down again. Lady Cath- 
erine buried her face in her hands, while a painful tremor shook 
her frame. The packet was from Mr. llandolph, and enclosed the 
half of the clasp, on the reception of which Lady Catherine had 
promised to meet her lover at any hour or place he chose to indi- 
cate. The following few words were traced on the paper in which 
the jewel was wrapped : — 

“ Half-past eleven to-night, in the Hermitage at the end of the 
cedar walk. F. R.” 

It was no slight proof of Lady Catherine’s love and faith, and 
of his empire over her, that Mr. Bandolph asked. A guest at 
Amesbury, was it possible that she could comply with his request, 
without danger of compromising her reputation? This it was, 
the humiliating feeling of carrying on a clandestine intrigue, that 
brought the flush to her cheek, and which turned her joy into 
shame and distress. She sat coweriug under this sense of humilia- 
tion, and shrinking from the pitying gaze of Helen’s eyes ; yet the 
intense desire to behold him she loved again, burned strongly 
within. To fail Mr. Randolph now, would be to retard the con- 
summation of her dearest hope — the avowal of her marriage ; for 
had he not promised — pledged himself — at their next interview 
to explain the mystery, this secret, which bound her, as it were, 
with iron fetters ? A smile, bright and trustful, beamed over her 
expressive features ; then she arose, and, after standing a minute 
in gloomy meditation over the fire, advanced to the windows, and 
drawing back the curtain gazed without. She then walked to the 
toilette-table, and taking up Helen’s watch looked at the hour. 
The hands pointed to eleven. 


310 


PIQUE. 


“ Helen, our knowledge of each other has been brief; we have 
been thrown together a great deal latterly, and events have ripened 
our intimacy during this short period, probably more than years 
of casual intercourse would have done. As a climax to our singu- 
lar friendship, you must now believe and think just the very oppo- 
site to what you are about to hear and witness. I cannot explain ; 
yet I tell you, Helen, that even though contrary to your senses, 
you must believe me pure and incapable of a dishonoring action as 
yourself. But to the point ; I am under an imperative obligation 
to meet a person this night. Can you, Helen, direct me to some 
private mode of egress to the gardens?” asked Lady Catherine, iD 
a low, resolute voice, returning to the fire. 

She shrank beneath the gaze of bewildered, utter incredulity, 
which she read in Helen's eyes. 

“Catherine, are you serious? Surely — surely not. It cannot 
be!” exclaimed Helen, rising, and gently taking Lady Catherine’s 
trembling hand which rested on the mantel-piece. 

“Cannot you believe it, Helen, when I — I tell it you? Do 
you imagine that I would undergo this humiliation for nought ? 
or encounter your withering astonishment for the sake of a sorry 
jest ? ” replied Lady Catherine, passionately, snatching away hei 
hand. 

There was a kind of resolute tenacity in Lady Catherine’s tone 
and manner, which convinced Helen that expostulation would be 
vain ; even had their degree of intimacy warranted such interfer- 
ence on her part. Already she stood before the toilette, unclasping 
her bracelets from her arms and the ornaments from her neck, 
while the crimson on her cheek glowed with the brightness of the 
most hectic flush. 

“ Well, Helen, will you aid me, or must I have recourse to my 
faithful Wilmot?” at length, asked Lady Catherine, turning, so 
as to confront Helen. 

“ If nothing will induce you to swerve from your resolution. 
Lady Catherine, I think I can show you a private way into tho 
garden. In the room adjoining Ibis, there is a window opening on 
a small glazed balcony for flowers ; and from this balcony, a narrow 
flight of steps descends on to the lawn at the back of the mansion,” 
replied Helen, with visible reluctance. 

Lady Catherine impetuously entered the small adjoining apart- 
ment, which Mildred had arranged as a kind of study for hei 
friend. Aware of Helen’s passionate love for flowers, Lady Aires- 
ford had expressly chosen these two rooms for her, and amused 
herself with collecting within tKe smaller one everything that 


PIQUE. 


311 


fancy suggested was likely t> gratify her friend’s task,, or afford 
occupation to her hours of retirement; A few of her best and 
most successful pictures adorned the walls; and all Helen’s favorite 
authors were arranged in the book -shelves, or displayed on the 
pretty tables around. The shutters of the balcony window, which 
were fast closed, afforded a momentary impediment to Lady 
Catherine’s eager investigation. She, however, coolly placed the 
candle in Helen’s hand, and after a brief survey succeeded in 
flinging open the glass door at the head of the steps. The chill 
October night wind made Helen retreat; arrayed as she was in 
her muslin evening dress. It was clear moonlight, and the sky 
appeared dappled with little silver clouds. 

“ Surely, dear Catherine, you will not venture abroad without 
some thicker covering than that thin shawl on your shoulders. If 
I could but persuade you to postpone this interview till some more 
propitious night! until your return to W ardour, when you know 
there would be no occasion for a nocturnal ramble. Those clouds 
betoken rain, and at no distant period also. Dear Catherine, do 
let me prevail,” said Helen, earnestly. 

Lady Catherine, however, stood immovable, gazing without. 

“ No, Helen ! ’tis a waste of words to seek to dissuade or detain 
me,” at length, replied she, slowly re-entering the room. “ But if 
you will do a kindness, lend me those,” added she, pointing to 
Helen’s bonnet and garden cloak, which lay on a chair near. 

“ Willingly ; let me help you. Stay, Catherine, I will fasten 
the cloak more securely with this large clasp that Lord Alresford 
gave me last week,” said Helen, hastily going to the toilette-table, 
and returning with the brooch, 

“Bing, and dismiss Wilmot; she will imagine I am occupied 
with you in this room. Expect me back iu half an hour, dear 
Helen,” said Lady Catherine ; and, carefully closing the door, she 
descended the steps, which on one side were flanked by the man- 
sion wall, and lightly sprang on the lawn. 

The hermitage, the place of rendezvous indicated by Mr. Ran- 
dolph, was about ten minutes’ walk from the house, situated in one 
of the most beautiful and romantic spots in the grounds. The 
planting of this locality had been one of the favorite schemes of 
the late Lord Alresford ; and its singularity of aspect, and a cer- 
tain wild, majestic gloom, imposed greatly at first sight. From the 
flower garden a circuitous path ingeniously cut, led threugh a 
secluded part of the grounds, until at length it lost itself amidst 
the intricacies of several acres of cedars and fir-trees planted in 
compact square masses, intersected by broad walks of green sward- 


612 


PIQUE. 


At the end of the principal alley called the Cedar Walk, a sharp 
turn led to the hermitage ; built on an ornamental bridge over a 
large piece of water running parallel with the above-mentioned 
walk. 

With light step Lady Catherine pursued her way towards this 
bourne ; looking, as the wind blew aside her cloak, and revealed 
the snowy robe beneath, like a spirit flitting amid these gloomy 
solitudes on its midnight rambles. The moonbeams shed their 
tranquil, steady glare, checkering the ground around with the 
tremulous shadows of the waving branches above, and throwing up 
long, mysterious vistas of gloom at every break in the trees. The 
rain had fallen plentifully during the day, and sparkling drops still 
hung here and there on the leaves and grass, and refreshing odors 
sprang from the moist earth teeming with life and vegetation. 
Ofttiraes the fresh night-breeze blew back her bonnet, and com- 
pelled her, with a shudder, to wrap the cloak more tightly around 
her figure ; and more than once she fancied a light drop of rain 
fell. Above, large, watery-looking clouds now rolled in heavy 
flakes before one another, until, breaking into fantastic forms, 
they gradually merged into the dense gray masses, frowning on the 
horizon. 

Strong as was her courageous resolution, Lady Catherine glanced 
timidly around as she entered the gloomy cedar grove ; and invol- 
untarily she quickened her pace. Every now and then a sudden 
rustle and plunge amongst the long grass and bushes made her 
start nervously, and precipitately she hurried on, until she turned 
the angle of the walk, and, to her infinite joy, beheld the hermit- 
age. Yet, excited as were her feelings, a sentiment of awe crept 
over her, as she gazed on the solemn grandeur of the scene now 
before her. Deep shadows floated on the broad expanse of the 
water, contrasting with the tremulous glitter of the moon’s rays, 
here and there fitfully gleaming on its surface. Terrace after ter- 
race of huge sombre trees sloped down on either side to the water’s 
edge, and beyond, heavy woods, dark and shadowy in the moon- 
light, bounded the horizon. 

With vapid step and beating heart Lady Catherine traversed the 
bridge, wondering that no loved voice as yet greeted her. The 
door of the hermitage was wide open. In another moment she 
sprang into the rustic chamber ; but Mr. Randolph was not there. 
For a brief interval she stood in suspense ; disappointment and 
anxiety oppressing her heart. She threw back her bonnet, and 
gazed around, 'the cold, subdued light streamed through the dia- 
mond-shaped panes of glass in the windows ; but no token or evi- 


PIQUE. 


313 


Aence could Lady Catherine perceive of Mr. Eandolph ha ving been 
true to his appointment. The few articles of furniture, also, 
remained still undisturbed in their places. She knew not what 
to suppose. At length, reflecting that some unexpected accident 
might have retarded his arrival, and determined not lightly to 
abandon her chance of seeing him, she drew a chair forwards ; 
then resting her arms on the table, and burying her face in her 
hands, thoughts swift and agitating passed through her brain. She 
heeded not the solitariness of the place, for no terrors, real or 
imaginary had power to divert her mind ; with folded arms, and 
her fair young head bowed on the table, she waited. 

All at once a gust of wind shook the hermitage, and swept from 
her side Helen’s bonnet, which had fallen from her hand to the 
floor ; presently large, round drops of rain fell with a heavy, sud- 
den plash on the stone steps. Lady Catherine hurriedly arose 
from her seat, and approaching the door gazed without. The cold 
wind blew, and with a shudder she raised her hand to draw the 
cloak still more tightly around her throat. Whilst so occupied, 
her hand accidentally rubbed against the sleeve of her dress. It 
felt cold, and saturated with moisture. Instinctively she extended 
her arm, and advanced a little farther into the porch, when a sick- 
ening feeling of horror and dismay overpowered her, as she per- 
ceived that the whole lower part of the sleeve was stained of a 
deep red hue. For a moment she sank on the bench inside the 
porch ; the next, she arose and returned to the place from which 
she had just risen. Close by, on the table, was another deep stain 
of blood, and then another. Pale and immovable, Lady Catherine 
gazed, until, with an agonized exclamation of terror, she turned 
to seek refuge in flight, from the dark apprehension which goaded 
her spirit almost to madness. Once again she stood in the porch ; 
but as Helen had predicted, the rain now descended in torrents, 
while the distant roar of thunder reverberated in the surrounding 
hollows, and shook the frail bridge. The moon still shone with fitful 
glare, frequently obscured by black, opaque clouds, and the rain, 
driven by the wind, drifted before her in swift, whirling circles, 
until the whole expanse of wood and water seemed wrapped in a 
wLitened sheet of vapor. In mute terror, Lady Catherine stood 
on the threshold. Crash after crash of thunder rocked the her- 
mitage to and fro ; and the wind with sullen murmur fiercely 
tossed the branches, # and whistled amid the foliage. Appalled by 
the unabated fury of the storm, Lady Catherine retreated into the 
hermitage ; and closing the door, threw herself on her knees, and 
buried her face in her hands. The g'oom gradually deepened, and 
27 


314 


PIQUE. 


save when a vivid flash of lightning illumined her place of refuge, 
only the faintest rays of light glimmered through the windows. 
She tried to collect her thoughts ; but the excitement had been too 
great, and her mind wandered ; taunting voices and mocking 
laughter sounded in her ears; and shudderingly she knelt, 
motionless and paralyzed, as the blast, with hoarse murmur, swept 
around. 

At length the violence of the storm exhausted itself ; gradually 
the thunder became fainter and fainter ; the heavy clouds rolled 
away, and dispersed, and the moon once more rode triumphant in 
the heavens. Lady Catherine started up instantly, and threw open 
the door. The atmosphere was clearer, though still a small swift 
rain fell. Gathering her cloak round her, she resolved to take 
advantage of the lull to retrace her steps back to the house. As 
she reached the end of the bridge, the great clock struck one ; she 
had just been absent an hour and a half. With the speed of 
lightning, she hurried onwards, and, excited and weary, at length 
reached the foot of the stairs leading to the balcony in Helen’s 
apartment. 

The latter, meanwhile, spent the period of Lady Catherine’s 
absence in the wildest alarm. A thousand times during the con- 
tinuance of the storm had she been tempted to dispatch Wilmot in 
search of her mistress ; but deterred by the recollection of Lady 
Catherine’s determination and evident displeasure, when she ven- 
tured to remonstrate with her, she wandered restlessly up and 
down, listening in dire affright to the wind and pealing thunder, 
and forming vain conjectures as to where her friend would most 
probably find shelter. Seldom had Helen experienced a joy so 
fervent as wheti she heard Lady Catherine’s step on the balcony 
stairs ; quickly ^he threw open the glass door. 

“ Catherine, thank God, 1 see you safe back again ! ” exclaimed 
she; “what a fearful storm! Surely you have not been exposed 
to its fury ? ” 

Lady Catherine silently disengaged herself from Helen’s arms. 
There was a fixedness on her pallid features, and a deep steady 
glare in her eyes, which made Helen tremble. 

“ Catherine, speak, I implore. Tell me you are not hurt.” 

“ I am perfectly well, Helen,” replied Lady Catherine, shudder- 
ingly turning aside ; “do not alarm yourself.” 

“ Let me relieve you of this wet cloak. „You will catch your 
death of cold if you persist in keeping it longer around you. Come 
to the fire, dearest Catherine,” said Helen, soothingly, trying to 
unclasp the cloak, from which streams of water dripped on the 
floor. 


PIQUE. 


315 


Lady Catherine, however, hastily passed her, and went into the 
adjoining room. Helen, more and more astonished, lingered a 
moment to replace the shutter, and then followed her. She was 
standing before the fire, and the cloak had fallen from her shoul- 
ders on the hearth-rug. Her muslin dress clung around her figure 
in damp folds, splashed and spoiled. One sleeve was entirely rent 
away, baring her white, rounded arm nearly to the shoulder, and 
her hair, escaped from beneath her comb, hung in loose, dishevelled 
masses below her waist. 

“ Good heavens,’ Catherine ! What is this? You told me you 
were not hurt,” suddenly exclaimed Helen, seizing her gown, and 
pointing to a dark red stain just below her arm. ‘’Oh! Cathe- 
rine what is all this about ? Why do you look so strange and 
wild?” 

“ Ask no questions, I implore you, Helen. Believe what you 
will ; but no word of explanation passes my lips,” exclaimed she, 
sternly. “ Do I frighten you, Helen ? ” continued Lady Catherine, 
after a pause, with a sad smile, as the delicate muslm yielded to 
her impetuous grasp, and in another second the fire had consumed 
the telltale marks which excited Helen’s horror. “ Oh ! Helen, 
may you never know that anguish which dooms the lips to silence, 
while the heart is breaking! ” 

And she knelt, and buried her throbbing brow in her hands. 
Helen threw her arm round her. Presently Lady Catherine’s rigid 
despair began to yield ; large tears coursed each other, at first 
slowly, down her cheeks ; but the fountain once unsealed soon they 
streamed from Jier eyes, and she seemed to be weeping forth the 
very wildness and outpourings of her sorrow. Helen, unspeaka- 
bly distressed, whispered every consolation that the tendcrest sym- 
pathy could suggest, and soon, like a child exhausted by the vio- 
lence of its grief, Lady Catherine’s sobs ceased ; and,, save that 
now and then a sharp spasm passed over her, she sat motionless 
with her face still buried in her hands. 

Suddsnly she raised her head, and fixed her eyes steadily on 
Helen, who was still kneeling by her. 

“ Helen, I know that 1 have no right to extort a pledge from 
you, or to burden you with the weight of a secret ; but will you 
forever insure my love and gratitude, by promising, on your most 
solemn word, to keep silence on everything which has befallen me 
this night ? ” said Lady Catherine, with something of her old 
sternness of manner. 

Helen reflected a moment. 

“Do you hesitate, Helen? Have I been deceived in your 


PIQUE. 


016 

regard, your sympathy ? ” resumed Lady Catherine, in agitated 
tones. “ Would you add another pang to my already bitter 
destiny ? ” 

“ No, Catherine. I was thinking whether I should not prove 
myself your truest friend by communicating what I know of this 
night’s distressing events, to some one who could aid you by coun- 
sel or by active interference — to your guardian, for instance.” 
Lady Catherine started violently. “ But as I have no right to 
betray what you peremptorily desire me to conceal, I give you, 
though very reluctantly, the promise you ask. But suffer me, dear 
Catherine, I beseech you, this word of counsel ” 

“ Spare me, Helen ! Advice, counsel, even by my own most 
innate conviction of right, must bend to my irrevocable destiny ! 
One day you shall know all, — and then I will ask you, not to pity 
me, but to acknowledge that, by a strange combination of circum- 
stances, what now doubtless appears to you so reprehensible, may, 
after all, not only prove justifiable, but also have been the sole 
possible step the clearest sense of right could dictate.” 

Helen made no reply ; feeling that to argue with her friend in 
her excited state, when rest and quiet might, perhaps, be of vital 
consequeuce, would be worse than imprudent. Lady Catherine’s 
room was not very distant from Helen’s, and softly and warily they 
presently glided towards it. When they entered, both at first drew 
back in momentary alarm at the unexpected sight of Wilmot ; 
who, despite the orders she had received, sat stiff and upright in 
an arm-chair in front of a blazing fire, her small gray eyes exhib- 
iting not the slightest token of fatigue. She ro^ as the young 
ladies advanced, shook her head reproachfully, and then bent a 
long scrutinizing gaze on her mistress. Helen placed her finger 
on her lips; then feeling quite satisfied in confiding her friend to 
the faithful care of Wilmot, she speedly regained her own apart 
ment 


CHAPTEE XXX. 

The following morning. Lady Catherine was too ill to make 
her appearance at the breakfast-table. She had passed the night 
in brief snatches of restless disturbed slumber, and her wan looks, 
when daylight broke, bore strong evidence of the mental agitation 
of the preceding evening. Helen, who was early by Lady Cathe- 


PIQUE. 


317 


rine’s bedside, was inexpressibly grieved at the languor which had 
suddenly stolen over her friend’s beautiful features. Wilmot’s 
deep sighs and solemn portentous shake of the head, added not a 
little to her alarm ; and without hinting at her design, Helen 
thought it right to communicate to Mildred the serious indisposition 
of her guest. Accordingly, she proceeded at once to Lady Alresford’a 
apartment, and soon returned with her. Lady Catherine, however, 
in reply to Mildred’s earnest questions, persisted in ascribing her 
indisposition solely to a slight cold, and rejected almost perempto- 
rily the united entreaty of both her friends, that she would sum- 
mon medical aid ; nor could they even induce her to delay her 
return to Wardour until the following day ; a resolve in which, 
to Helen’s surprise, she was warmly seconded by the cautious 
Wilmot. 

Finding her entreaty vain, Lady Alresford, accompanied by 
Helen, presently descended to the breakfast-room ; and again was 
Mildred more than ever astonished at the evident coldness with 
which the Earl greeted her friend. Even towards the talkative 
Miss Tennyson, who sat on his right, Lord Alresford seemed more 
attentive and cordial. Mildred felt inexpressibly provoked ; and 
inwardly accused her husband of cruel injustice in suffering her 
own deficiencies and shortcomings to influence his conduct towards 
Helen ; especially in the presence of Sir Gerard Bayuton and his 
mother. She was, however, somewhat pacified and consoled, when 
she perceived that Sir Gerard had contrived to insinuate himself 
into a chair next to Helen ; and when Lady Emily, after express- 
ing the highest admiration and affection for Miss Campbell, took 
an opportunity of asking her, with a meaning smile, whether she 
could spare her friend to pay a visit to the Chauntry. Mildred, 
with a glad glance at Helen’s happy, blushing face, immediately 
replied in the affirmative, and begged Lady Emily to arrange the 
matter with Miss Campbell, which she promised to do. 

The conversation, meanwhile, at the other end of the table, ran 
chiefly on the storm in the night, which had stripped the trees of 
half their remnant of foliage, and covered the walks and lawns 
instead with leaves and boughs ; diversified by sundry profound 
doubts and misgivings as to the state of the roads, on the part of 
Sir Bichard Tennyson. As for Clara, she was in high spirits, and 
talked to Mr. Turville in her most off-hand style, inviting him to 
visit Settringham, and Chartleigh also, after she got there herself ; 
and ended by giving him a gratifying assurance of Mr. Frank 
Norwood’s friendship. Mr. Turville listened with an air of most 
deferential attention, till his patience was saved severer trial by 
27 * 


318 


PIQUE. 


Miss Tennyson’s ideas being turned into a different channel, on 
the appearance of her brother’s phaeton at the door of the mansion. 
Sir Richard was in haste to reach home in time to greet a party of 
shooting friends at dinner that evening ; as soon, therefore, as break- 
fast was over, he hurried away his sister ; and it was with feelings of 
more satisfaction than he had experienced for many a day, that 
Lord Alresford handed the vivacious Miss Tennyson to her car- 
riage. Sir perard and Lady Emily Baynton next took their 
departure ; the latter having promised to drive over on some very 
early day, and fix with Helen when she was to visit the Chauntry ; 
and then came for Mildred the painful trial of bidding farewell to 
her parents. She felt that between herself and her loved mother, 
there had been a restraint during the whole of Lady Elvaston’s 
visit, which ought not to have existed. She dared not confide the 
hopes and fears perpetually fluctuating in her mind ; and yet as 
she hung upon her mother’s neck, and knew that she was suffering 
her to depart in /sorrowful uncertainty, most fervent at the time 
were Mildred’s good resolves, that if it depended only on her, 
joyous, indeed, should be their next meeting ; when, all misunder- 
standing swept away, she would greet her as the happy wife of 
Lord Alresford. 

Scarce had Mildred recovered her composure and joined the 
party again, when Lady Catherine made her appearance. The 
color suffused her cheek as she greeted her cousin, Mr. Turville, 
who had lingered expressly to see her before taking his departure ; 
then, fearful lest he should offer her his escort, Lady Catherine 
hurriedly requested Lady Alresford and Helen to accompany her 
home. Mildred assented ; but Helen excused herself on the plea 
of having letters to write ; but, in reality, she panted for retire- 
ment and leisure to compose her thoughts ; to sober, if possible, 
the feeling of new, inexpressible happiness which fluttered at her 
heart. Mr. Turville; perceiving that Lady Catherine was not 
disposed to yield him a more kind or flattering attention than had 
been her wont of late, soon rose and took his leave, and then 
Mildred quitted the room to prepare for her drive. Lady Catherine 
sat for a long time in silence ; her eyes bent on the carpet. 

“Helen,” at length said she, in her soft, melodious voice, “I 
allude once more to the events of last night, to tell you that I 
shall never forget your kindness and sympathy. Although I fore- 
see that it will not be long ere you have a home of your own in 
this neighborhood, dear Helen, yet, before that time arrives, let 
me sometimes share your society with Mildred. Promise me that 
you will come to Wardour Court.” 


PIQUE. 


319 


“ I shall like to do so more than I can express, Catierine,” 
rejoined Helen, quickly; for Lord Alresford’s evident prejudice 
had often been to her the subject of painful meditation ; she knew 
that she could not have given him personal offence, and therefore 
concluded his dislike most probably arose from distrust of her 
influence over Lady Alrcsford. Lady Catherine’s cordial invita- 
tion seemed now to remove the difficulty over which she had so 
long pondered ; she could still see Mildred, and ’enjoy her society 
for some time, without remaining for any lengthened period the 
Earl’s guest. 

“ Well, Helen, this is settled. Eemember, the doors of War- 
dour are from henceforth open to you whenever and for as long as 
you will. Should any unforeseen event take the Alresfcrds from 
this place, you must immediately come to me ; though otherwise, 
I suppose, Mildred will not relinquish your society for many weeks 
to come ? ” 

“Mo; I think I cannot leave Amesbury at present 

replied Helen, pausing, as Mildred and Mrs. Otway entered ; and 
about a quarter of an hour afterwards Lady Catherine took her 
departure. 

Helen sat at the window for some time pensively over her work. 
Without, beautiful woods, variegated already with autumnal tints, 
clothed the undulating glades and dells of the park, and the bright, 
cheerful sun poured into the room, harmonizing with the happiness 
which pervaded her heart. She knew she was beloved, and that ere 
long Sir Gerard would speak those words which should forever 
unite them. Gradually dreams of bliss stole over her fancy, and 
for the first time she allowed her thoughts to dwell on the felicity 
of becoming his wife. Unconsciously, the work glided from her 
hand ; a smile parted her lips, and her cheek, as she recalled 
every word, every look, glowed with fitful, passing hues. Not 
that in this retrospect she thought of Sir Gerard’s rank and wealth 
as additional subjects of gratulation, save only as the medium 
through which she might shower benefits on those she loved. As 
the beloved wife of Sir Gerard Baynton, the thought would now 
and then intrude of the splendid reception she would then give her 
parents and her brothers at her new home ; but further than this, 
her anticipated elevation never betrayed her. Won by Sir Gerard’s 
devotion, almost from the very commencement of their renewed 
.ntercourse, Helen had given her heart unreservedly ; though con- 
scious that his position entitled him to look higher than herself in 
his choice of a wife, for a long time she scarcely admitted his sway 
over her mind, even in her own secret communings. Had Six 


320 


PIQUE. 


Gerard been unprincipled, and merely sought to diversify a six 
weeks’ spell in the country by a flirtation with the curate’s daugh- 
ter, Helen might bitterly have rued the day when the kindness of 
Lady Elvaston brought her to associate intimately with those whose 
equal she was in mind and talent; nay, in everything save 
that touchstone of the world’s pride and exclusiveness — social 
position. 

After a time, fi[plen awoke from her reverie, and drawing her 
desk towards her, commenced a letter to her mother. Half-a-dozen 
sheets were speedily written upon and rejected, until at last, with 
a smile at the heap of fragments by her side, she gave up the 
attempt in despair. She passed into the adjoining saloon, loitered 
a few seconds at the table, and then, throwing up the window, 
walked into the conservatory. She thought of all Sir Gerard had 
there said ; and his tones again rang in her ears. The beautiful 
white rose-bud over which she had bent the night before, had 
blown, and now expanded its snowy petals to catch the warm sun- 
beam. She wandered further, and stood by the group of stately 
dhaturas, each incident of the preceding evening vividly recurring 
to her fancy. That exquisite gush of rapture which follows the 
consciousness of a first and reciprocal love, is a joy felt but once, 
and only once, in all its purity and intensity ; so Helen strolled 
along, her calm, gentle eyes expressing something of the harmony 
and content which filled her soul. After some time she returned 
to the drawing-room, and reseated herself near the deep bay-win- 
dow. She felt too absorbed, too happy, to work or read. Few 
and rare are the intervals in life when we can summon our thoughts 
as our pleasantest companions ; when retrospect brings us nought 
to disquiet, and the future glows brightly, so that we even iare 
anticipate its joys. With her elbow leaning on the window-seat, 
and her forehead resting in the palm of her hand, Helen remained 
buried in reverie, nor did she raise her head until the door opened, 
and a servant entered the room. 

“ My lord, madam, desires his compliments, and will be glad to 
speak with Miss Campbell for a few minutes in the library,” said 
the man, immediately retiring. 

In a moment, Helen’s happy dreams vanished. What could 
Lord Alresford have to say of sufficient moment to request a private 
conference ? Though Helen’s pristine admiration of the Earl still 
remained in full force, it was shadowed b}' a little tinge of pique, 
that he appeared so pertinaciously to undervalue and slight her 
friendship. She had made great efforts to obtain his esteem, and 
she felt both sorrow and vexation that hitherto, most undeservedly 


PIQUE. 


321 


on her part, she had failed in her attempts. However, with a 
perfectly guileless conscience, she now arose to grant the interview 
solicited by the Earl ; and, womanlike, first approached a mirror 
and smoothed the glossy bands of hair on her temples. As she 
thus stood, the thought darted through her brain, that Lord 
Alresford’s request might possibly have some relation with Lady 
Catherine’s extraordinary freak of the preceding night. Helen’s 
cheek turned very pale, for on this mysterious rendezvous her lips 
were sealed. Nevertheless, without further hesitation, she reso- 
lutely proceeded to the library ; though we do not assert that poor 
Helen’s heart, which but a few minutes before glowed with such 
pleasurable emotion, did not throb more tumultuously than was its 
wont, as she laid her hand on the door and entered the apartment. 
Lord Alresford was standing with his back to the fire, apparently 
awaiting her presence. The same gravity, which in, her light- 
heartedness she had scarcely remarked at breakfast, still hung on 
his brow, nor was she long in divining its cause ; for in passing 
the mantel-piece, to take possession of the chair that the Earl 
drew forwards for her, her eye fell on the clasp, which in ani 
instant she remembered she had lent to Lady Catherine to fasten . 
her cloak with. It was a beautiful agate in a plain gold setting ; a , 
present from the Earl, and until this moment Helen had been 
unconscious of its loss. Lord Alresford observed the rush of color 
to her choek, as her eye glanced on the brooch. 

“ I see, Miss Campbell, you recognize an old friend in this 
brooch. Were you aware of its loss?” said he, gently and 
seriously, placing it in her hand. 

“ No, Lord Alresford,” replied Helen, mechanically taking the 
brooch. She felt what was impending, and her pure spirit recoiled 
from the ordeal. She was guiltless, and yet she dare not assert 
her innocence. 

“When did you last wear it, Miss Campbell? There are 
circumstances connected with the finding of this brooch, which I 
would give much to hear satisfactorily explained,” resumed the 
Earl, in the same kind tones. 

“ What circumstances ? ” asked Helen, faintly, resolved to hear 
how far she was implicated. 

Lord Alresford looked surprised, and continued, in dryer 
tones, — 

“ Certainly, Miss Campbell, if you desire this detail, I am ready 
to give it, though I had hoped the painful task might have been 
spared me.” The Earl paused. Helen sat motionless. “ In the 
first | lace, then, the brooch was brought to me this morning by 


622 


PIQUE. 


one of the gardeners, who found it, half concealed in the grassy 
near a clump of evergreens in the cedar walk. According to my 
usual practice, I spent some time in this room last night, after 
every one had retired ; when, tempted by the beauty of the night, 
I opened the window, and strolled in the direction of the cedar 
grove. I had not proceeded far when my attention was aroused 
by the sound of footsteps along the walk parallel to that I was 
pursuing, which happened to be the beech walk, next to the park 
In some parts of this walk, the trees, as you are aware, are very 
slenderly planted, and through several gaps I obtained a full view 
of the trespasser ; who was apparently making rapidly in the 
direction of one of the lodges. I followed this person at some 
distance to the Avington gate, and then I distinctly heard the 
sound of carriage-wheels along the road. Is this enough, Miss 
Campbell,, or shall I proceed?” asked the Earl, suddenly pausing 
and fixing his eyes earnestly on her face. 

Helen merely bowed her head. 

“ Then followed the storm, Miss Campbell. I watched its prog- 
ress from this room — the least familiar, probably, to you of any 
in the house. Perhaps you do not know that one of these windows 
commands a full view of the balcony in front of your apartment ? ” 
said Lord Alresford, in tones of increased severity. 

Lord Alresford had then witnessed the departure and return of 
Lady Catherine, whom he took for herself ; nor could she marvel 
at the mistake in the uncertain moonlight, for their height was 
nearly the same, and the illusion doubtless riveted by Lady Cath- 
erine issuing from her chamber, clad also in her bonnet and cloak. 
Every link of evidence seemed complete, but too surely to convict 
her ; and she, even in self-vindication, was bound to silence. She 
had pledged her sacred word not to betray her friend, and by that 
promise she must, therefore, abide. Overpowered by the semblance 
of guilt, Helen actually shuddered beneath the deep scrutinizing 
glance bent upon her. Lord Alresford awaited with patient deter- 
mination until she collected herself sufficiently to reply. 

“ And you saw some one either return or depart by that balcony, 
whom you think resembled me ? Is it not so, my lord ? ” said 
she at length, proudly, raising her eyes to the Earl’s face. 

“ Think ! I saw you return from the garden, Miss Campbell. 
This fact unhappily will admit of no refutation ; though I fain 
hoped, from the high opinion I had formed of your character, and 
from that I heard others express, a few words from you might 
satisfactorily explain this affair. Now, I ask you, Mis3 Campbell, 
whether you can deny a single particle of what I have advanced ? ” 


PIQUE. 


323 


“ I will neither deny nor affirm anything, Loi 1 Alresford, hut 
that I am not guilty of what you infer; and I must decline 
answering any questions on the subject,” replied Helen, hurriedly, 
though she raised her clear, truthful eyes from the ground, upon 
which they had been steadily bent, and fixed them on the Earl’s 
face. 

“ You have, I know, Miss Campbell, a seeming right to set my 
questions at defiance ; but I will tell you the grounds on which 
alone I justify my interference in your concerns. As the chosen 
friend and companion of Lady Alresford, I feel bound to investi- 
gate your conduct in this affair. It would pain me deeply, besides, 
to suppose Miss Campbell guilty of clandestine intrigue ; or still 
more, of the dishonorable conduct of heartlessly encouraging the 
attentions of my friend Sir Gerard Baynton only to betray him,” 
said the Earl, indignantly. 

Helen writhed under the force of this insinuation. Her cheek, 
neck, and brow flushed, and spite of her fortitude, showers of tears 
poured down her face. 

“ Believe it not, Lord Alresford ! I am not guilty of this de- 
ception. I may not disclose more ; though I conjure you to believe 
me innocent of that you insinuate!” exclaimed she, imploringly, 
clasping her hands. 

Lord Alresford appeared surprised at her vehemence. 

“ Do I rightly understand, Miss Campbell, that you deny having 
quitted your apartment last night? ” asked he, at length. 

“I am not at liberty to offer any explanation on the subject,” 
repeated she, faintly, covering her face with her hands. 

“ Then excuse me, Miss Campbell, the presumption must be 
against you. I cannot disbelieve what I witnessed ” 

“Lord Alresford!” interrupted Helen, vehemently, starting 
from her seat, “ 1 have not done this evil thing which you 3uspect 
On my sole unsupported assertion, you must believe me. Have 
you sufficient confidence in my integrity?” 

The Earl shook his head and turned aside. 

“Against other testimony than the undoubted evidence of my 
senses, I might, perhaps, have placed implicit reliance on your 
assurances, Miss Campbell.” 

A look of despairing resolution passed over Helen’s pale face. 

“ As you believe me guilty of such dissembling, Lord Alresford, 
I will no longer remain an inmate of your house. Some day you 
will render me justice; and perhaps, when too late, regret the 
injury you may have done me. I shall return home to-morrow,” 
said she, haughtily and indignantly, though every now and then 
her w jrds were choked by tears. 


324 


PIQUE. 


Lord Alresford remained silent for a few moments ; painful ones 
were they for Helen, with her candid, frank sincerity of character. 

“ Under present circumstances, I cannot request you, Miss 
Campbell, to reconsider your determination/’ at length rejoined 
the Earl. “ You have great influence over Lady Alresford ; and, 
believing that of your conduct which I am bound to do until you 
prove to me otherwise, I may not conscientiously ask you to remain 
longer her guest. But is it, indeed, totally impossible to induce 
you to put confidence in me ? Will you not suffer me to be your 
friend in this affair, Miss Campbell ? Remember, a word spoken 
in season often saves endless misery. Cannot you take a lesson 
from Mildred’s history, and beware in time of the pernicious habit 
of culpable concealment? Pause, ere you finally decide, Miss 
Campbell, on quitting my roof with this stigma on your conduct. 
If all be right, as you tell me, consider whether, after the hopes 
you have given Sir Gerard Baynton, you are warranted in refusing 
an explanation of this suspicious circumstance ; for I will not hide 
from you my determination, after what has passed between you 
here, to avow fully and openly to my friend the causes which led 
to the abrupt termination of your visit. 

A slight shiver passed over Helen’s frame. If her cup of sorrow 
were not before full, the drop was now added which should send it 
brimming over ; for the thought, indeed, filled her with anguish 
that Sir Gerard should be taught to believe her guilty and 
unfaithful, from the all persuasive lips of Lord Alresford. 

“ But if you were bound to another by a solemn pledge of 
secrecy, my lord, how would you act ? ” asked Helen, desperately, 
raising her face, pale as ashes, from her folded hands. 

“Another, Miss Campbell ! ” A dark shadow crossed the Earl’s 
brow, and he appeared lost in thought for a few seconds. Pres- 
ently he resumed, in his ordinary tone and manner.^ 

“Either you are acting in good faith, or treacherously by my 
friend, Miss Campbell. If the former, you ought not to have made 
this promise. No one can, or has the right to impose such an 
extent of self-sacrifice ; and if you take my advice, you will dis- 
regard, under the circumstances, a pledge which ought never to 
have been exacted.” 

Helen felt the truth of these words; her promise, and above 
all the remembrance of Lady Catherine’s despair, and her actual 
ignorance of tne extent to which a frank avowal might compromise 
her friend, closed her lips. She knew that by resolutely refusing 
to answer the Earl’s inquiries, she was casting happiness from her, 
perhaps, forever ; yet Lady Catherine had quitted Amesbury con- 


PIQUE. 


325 


fiding in her honor, in the full and entire security that her secret 
was safe. She could not betray her, let the consequences be what 
they might. The Earl’s words and counsel rang in her cars, for 
his voice admonished her to do that which her own inward sense 
of rectitude prompted ; yet, from a refinement of generosity, and 
a sacred reverence for her promise, Helen refrained. 

“ Lord Alresford,” at length said she, firmly and mournfully, 
“ I would give much, very much to reinstate myself in your esteem. 
On the events of last night, I am bound to be silent. The happy 
day may not be far distant when I may clear myself iu your 
opinion; nor will I, until then, complain of the severity with 
which I have been condemned upon mere presumption ! I shall 
leave Amesbury to-morrow,” added she, with somewhat of hauteur 
in her tone and manner, as she arose to depart. 

The Earl merely bowed; yet Helen, as she timidly raised her 
eyes to his, thought that she discovered the expression of real 
sorrow and concern on his face. 

“One word more, Miss Campbell. Had Lady Alresford any 
knowledge of what occurred last night ? ” 

“ Not the slightest, ray lord. I never spoke to Lady Alresford 
from the time I quitted the drawing-room yesterday evening, until 
a few minutes before we entered the breakfast-room together this 
morning,” replied she, emphatically, walking composedly past the 
Earl out of the room. 

As soon, however, as she heard the library-door close, Helen 
swiftly darted forwards, and bounding up the staircase, hastily 
locked the door of her room, and throwing herself in a chair, 
buried her face in her hands. Her faculties seemed stunned with 
the suddenness of the disgrace which had befallen her. Her mind, 
for a season, appeared incapable of performing its functions, and 
for a long, long time, Helen could but weep in the very bewilder- 
ment of anguish. Her first outburst of sorrow over, she arose and 
calmly began to consider her position. She remembered that she 
had pledged herself to leave the Earl’s house on the morrow ; nor 
did Helen regret her act, while calmly reviewing her conduct. 
She felt indignant, wounded to the quick, that Lord Alresford had 
judged her so harshly, and that her reiterated assurances of inno- 
cence scarce moved his incredulity ; and she justly considered 
that, lowered as she was in his esteem, it would inflict too intoler- 
able a humiliation to remain longer his guest. Once Helen seized 
her pen to address an earnest appeal to Lady Catherine to come to 
her rescue, and clear her from the painful suspicion ; but she felt 
the utter hopelessness of this course. She recalled the start of 
2S 


326 


PIQUE. 


keen apprehension with which, on the preceding evening, Lady 
Catherine received her advice to confide the mystery to the Earl. 
Another powerful reason operated, also, to induce her to lay aside 
her pen ; which was the conviction, that Lady Catherine, when 
informed of the sudden termination of her visit at Amesbury, 
would importunately entreat her to remove to Wardour. Helen’s 
native delicacy of mind revolted at the idea of remaining in Sir 
Gerard’s neighborhood, under the grave stigma which Lord Alre3- 
ford would not fail to avow. She felt that total absence were pref- 
erable to encountering his altered eye, or Lady Emily’s reproach- 
ful glance ; she might not confide the secret of her innocence to 
Sir Gerard’s ear; better, therefore, that the keen trial of meeting 
in coldness and alienation should be spared them. Though Helen 
trusted that speedily Lady Catherine’s high sense of generosity 
would clear her from blame, yet she determined it should be from 
the bosom of her own dear home that her earnest appeal to her 
should be addressed. She would not linger at Wardour Court, 
apparently awaiting Sir Gerard’s decision ; yet the thought of his 
sorrow, his reproach, threw her into an agony of grief. Poor 
Helen ! how had the short space of two hours changed the current 
of her thoughts! When she arose they were joyous, brilliant witli 
hope ; but now, like a dark cloud on the blue sky of April, 
unmerited disgrace had marred and swept them away, and she 
drooped under the menaced storm. 

More and more, as Helen reflected, did she become convinced 
that her decision was right. She now labored, however, under a 
sense of injury, which, perhaps, imparted more warmth and energy 
to her thoughts and actions ; yet tears dropped fast from her eyes 
as she arose and collected together various little articles dispersed 
over the room, preparatory to beginning her packing operations for 
her journey on the morrow. She was anxious to make some prog- 
ress before Mildred’s return, for she guessed what would be thf 
vehemence of her remonstrance and regret. 

Helen had been thus occupied for about an hour, when she hearo 
Lady Alresford’s hasty step in the corridor, and in another instant 
Mildred stood before her door demanding admittance. Slowly 
Helen complied ; the bed, the tables were covered with the con 
tents of her wardrobe, and a large, open trunk, half filled, stood 
in the centre of the room. Mildred paused in astonishment. 

“Good heavens, Helen! what does all this mean?” exclaimed 
she, breathlessly. 

“ Simply, dearest Mildred, that I must leave you to-morrow. 
Sit down, and I will explain the wonderful revolution in my des- 


PIQUE. 


327 


tiny since your departure,” replied Helen, striving to repress hex 
tears. 

Lady Alresford passively complied, and Helen shortly related 
the charge against her, her inability to refute it, and consequent 
determination. Frequent and passionate were Mildred’s inter- 
ruptions; and fervently did she now admonish Helen of the danget 
of concealment Firmly, however. Miss Campbell resisted her 
endearments, reproaches, and exhortations, until exhausted, choked 
with tears, Mildred flew from the room, and took refuge in her 
boudoir. From thence, in a very few minutes, Helen beheld her 
pass her room again ; she heard her hurried step on the stairs, and 
telt convinced that she had gone to plead her cause with the Earl. 
Presently Lady Alresford repassed again, and Helen saw nothing 
more of her until dinner. 

Never meal passed more uncomfortably for poor Mildred since 
6he became mistress of Amesbury. Her own eyes were heavy with 
weeping ; Helen looked pale and resolute ; the Earl, serious and 
unbending ; and, as a natural consequence of this state of affairs, 
conversation proceeded at the rate of a word every ten minutes. 
Vainly Lady Alresford watched the countenances of her companions 
to detect the slightest trace of relenting on either. Never did she 
more bitterly rue her alienation from her husband’s confidence 
than on this evening ; it bereft her of half her weapons in Helen’s 
cause. Her own positive conviction of her friend’s innocence in 
this mysterious affair was unclouded by a particle of doubt, and 
after their short stay in the dining-room, never did advocate seek 
more arduously to draw forth admissions in his client’s favor, than 
did Mildred subtilcly strive to wrest from Helen some testimony 
for her vindication. She plied her with the most ingenious ques- 
tions, dexterously left the subject for a few minutes, only to return 
to it with renewed vigor, then put seemingly indifferent queries, 
and drew her own conclusions. Helen felt that to preserve Lady 
Catherine’s secret intact required all her vigilance and skill ; and 
glad to obtain a few moments’ repose, she strolled into the con- 
servatory, and sought out again the fair, white rose. Nothing but 
its green leaves now met her view, and Helen, as she approached, 
saw that the ground around was strewed with delicate transparent 
petals. It had fallen, — and, like her own hope, prematurely 
withered. She stooped, hastily gathered together the snowy leaves, 
and then returned to the room. Mildred, however, had vanished, 
and Helen, not being especially desirous of another tete-a-tete with 
Lord Alresford, swiftly followed her example. As she approached 
her room, she heard Lady Alresford’s voice within, in very earnest 


328 


PIQUE. 


conference with Aglae. The latter, on Miss Campbell’s entrance, 
instantly resumed her occupation of packing ; but Helen thought 
that Mildred’s manner seemed more cheerful, and that she spoko 
with less restraint of her approaching departure on the morrow. 
Astonished at this change, Helen vainly taxed her recollection, 
fearful lest she had been betrayed into some undue admissions ; 
but conscience fully acquitted her of any breach of promise to 
Lady Catherine, nor did Mildred resume the subject until they 
sat alone that night, during their long and last vigil in the 
boudoir. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

Early the following morning, Helen arose and prepared tor 
her immediate departure, — not choosing to undergo the painful 
restraint of meeting Lord Alrcsford again. Sadly Mildred and 
she lingered over the breakfast-table ; few words were exchanged 
between them, for each felt that there was something she might 
not speak. At length Aglae terminated this painful interview by 
entering to announce that the carriage to convey Miss Campbell 
to Avington was at the door. Helen arose ^ she struggled for 
firmness, and tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“ You will write very soon, Helen ; and tell Mrs. Campbell 
not to distress herself, for I am much mistaken if this temporary 
shadow docs not bring out your character, my Helen, in its 
brightest hues. However, I will write and tell her so myself,” 
said Mildred, as arm in-arm they traversed the hall ; for Lady 
Alrcsford was resolved to see the last of her friend, though fear 
lest her husband might construe it into an indirect censure of his 
conduct, prevented her from accompanying Helen to Avington. 

Helen, however, through Mildred, had had the offer of various 
escorts home from the Earl. He desired that either Aglae or the 
housekeeper should be at Miss Campbell’s command to attend her 
to Greysdon ; but Helen firmly declined their services, resolved 
to wend her way back home alone, especially as she did not choose 
that any of the inmates of Amesbury should witness the astonish- 
ment her sudden return might occasion. Involuntarily a deep 
feeling of sadness crept over her heart as the carriage rolled away. 
As long as the mansion was visible, Helen could descry Mildred’s 
figure at the door; and imagination pictured the regret which 


PIQUE. 


329 


shadowed her face, as she stood waving her handkerchief until 
the carriage disappeared. Helen sighed, too, as she looked around 
on the fair scene she was so suddenly leaving ; on the beautiful 
park glades, half shadow, half sunshine, with dew trembling in 
glittering drops on the. tender blades of grass, gently agitated as 
the soft wind crept with musical murmur amid the foliage already 
tinged with the golden hues of autumn. When the lodge gates 
were passed, the long undulating line of woods to the left she 
knew sheltered the Chauntry. A heavy purple mist hung over 
them, though here and there bright patches of sunshine rested on 
the topmost branches of the trees, rendering the gloom beneath 
still' more striking and picturesque. An indescribable sensation 
of depression overpowered poor Helen ; she sank back in the car- 
riage ; nor was she roused from her reverie until the little market 
town of Avington reminded her that she must be near her desti- 
nation, — the railway station. To her infinite joy, there was no 
one she recognized on the platform ; at that early hour it was 
scarcely probable there should be ; so she quietly stepped into 
one of the carriages, and a few minutes afterwards bade adieu to 
the county of D shire. 

Helen’s thoughts, as she was impelled along, were not of the 
most enviable description. Mildred’s affection, however, and 
whispered parting words, afforded much consolation ; besides 
which, her trust in Lady Catherine’s generosity never once for- 
sook her, nor the hope that when informed of the suffering entailed 
by her faithful adherence to her promise, the latter would afford 
such an explanation to the Earl as should satisfactorily clear her 
from suspicion. As she journeyed on, musing on the one untoward 
circumstance that filled her spirit with sadness, Helen thought 
not on the smaller though still galling annoyances to which her 
sudden aud unexpected return would subject her. She had yet 
to realize and to endure also the perpetual flurry of her mother’s 
restless inquiries and unceasing activity to discover that which 
her daughter felt herself bound to conceal ; to suffer the daily 
annoyance of the petty gossip and insinuations of the village 
notabilities, all more or less jealous of her intimacy with the 
family at the IViory ; to say nothing of the more cold, politely- 
expressed surprise of their county neighbors. Every sorrow, 
however, appeared to vanish for the moment, when Helen, after a 
wearisome journey, beheld the gray spire of the village church of 
Greysdon, and passed its pretty cottages, covered with creepers 
and trellis- work. 

As she approached her home, a feeling of inexpressible anxiety 
28 * 


330 


riQUE. 


took possession of her heart. She wondered what her father, her 
mother, and Colin would say to her abrupt appearance amongst 
them, especially with the unsatisfactory explanation of its cause, 
which it was in her power to offer. To her father, however. Helen 
liad resolved to impart all she knew. She trusted implicitly to 
his discretion and respect for her solemn promise of secrecy, while 
placiug unbounded reliance on his advice. She felt she was 
scarcely justified in carrying the suspicion to her parents’ bosom 
that their beloved daughter had indeed committed herself ; or to 
return and sadden their happy home by a painful, mysterious 
silence. Her father’s assurance and approval of her conduct, she 
knew, would set her mother’s mind at rest ; indeed, she looked 
principally to him for support and sympathy in the affliction 
which had so unexpectedly befallen her. 

The back of Mr. Campbell’s house faced the village street, and 
Helen, when she arrived at the gates leading into the yard, 
stopped the fly which had conveyed her from Stanmore; then 
giving the man directions to drive in and set down her luggage, 
she sprang from the carriage and opened the garden-gate. The 
garden her mother loved so well looked blooming almost as when 
she left it. The brightest flowers of the season adorned the bor- 
ders, and the verdure of the smoothly-mown lawn was not marred 
even by a single stray leaf. She looked up a: the house; the 
windows of her own bedroom were closed, and the blinds care- 
fully drawn down. Helen’s silent observations, however, were 
soon interrupted by the appearance of her mother in her garden- 
ing costume. Mrs. Campbell paused and looked earnestly at the 
figure advancing towards her, not at once recognizing Helen, who 
was muffled in a veil and large shawl, and a look of displeasure 
swept over her face ; for Mrs. Campbell greatly disapproved of 
any casual comers intruding into the garden. She accordingly 
stood stock-still, with a very stately air, awaiting the approach of 
the presumptuous personage steadily wending her way towards 
her. Colin, meanwhile, who delighted to listen to the dignified 
rebukes administered by his mother, to the unhappy individuals 
unendowed with the happy faculty of discriminating between the 
front and the back doors, arose from his chair and approached the 
window. 

“ Mother, mother! ” exclaimed he, after gazing earnestly for a 
second, “ where can your eyes be ? Don’t you* see that it is Helen, 
darling Helen, come back again ? ” and the next instant the impet- 
uous boy bounded forwards, and clasped his Aster in his arms. 

“Helen! impossible, Colin! And jet. —good gracious, it 


PIQUE. 


331 


must be she ! Helen, my child, how in the world do you come 
here ? ” exclaimed Mrs. Campbell, breathlessly, as she too folded 
her daughter in her embrace. 

“ Mamma, are you glad, very glad to see me ? ” ashed Helen, 
hiding her face on her mother’s bosom, to conceal the tears which 
involuntarily started in her eyes. 

“ Glad ! To be sure. What a silly girl you are to agitate 
yourself thus, my dear ! ” said Mrs. Campbell, fondly kissing her 
daughter’s forehead. “ But 1 want to know, Helen, what makes 
you pop upon us so unexpectedly ? I suppose your friends, weary 
already of Amesbury, are come back to the Priory ; and yet, [ 
saw Mrs. Slater this morning, and she never hinted at such an 
event, which I should think would require at least a week’s 
preparation, — that is, to get everything comfortably arranged 
in the house again ” 

“Do leave Mrs. Slater and her preparations, mother, and let 
us hear what brings Helen back so suddenly. Something painful 
has happened, I am certain, from your pale cheek, my darling 
Helen; so tell us at once,” interposed Colin, whose sharp cars 
had caught the sound of wheels in the ‘adjoining yard, and the 
lumbering down of trunks and packages. 

At this moment, Mr. Campbell, attracted by the unusual din 
of voices without, appeared at the study window. Helen, as soon 
as she perceived her father, darted forwards and threw herself 
into his arms. 

“ My darling child! what is the meaning of this your sudden 
return, though not the less welcome ? Surely nothing has hap- 
pened to Mildred? ” exclaimed Mr. Campbell. 

“ Come, Helen, take off your bonnet, and let us hear all about 
it,” said Mrs. Campbell, following her daughter into the room, 
and closing the window. “ Who did you travel with, my dear ? ” 

“ I travelled alone, mamma,” replied Helen, feeling, if she did 
not look, terribly embarrassed 

“ Alone ! ” and Mrs. Campbell cast a scrutinizing glance on 
her daughter. 

* Do not keep us longer in suspense, my dear Helen, but tell 
us what brings you so suddenly home again,” said Mr Campbell. 

Helen paused, irresolute, for a few moments; she knew not 
haw to broach the subject. She dreaded her mother’s persevering 
inquiries ; besides which, Helen was not one of those heroines 
who endure with a kind of proud, silent triumph, undeserved 
censure, complacent in the contemplation of their injured inno- 
cence ; and she naturally shrunk from detailing the little she 


332 


PIQUE. 


felt at liberty to do, until sbe had poured the whole history into 
her father’s ear, and had secured his sanction of her conduct 
throughout the affair. 

“ Mamma,” at length she began, “there are some very painful 
events connected with my sudden return, which I feel sure will 
greatly rouse your indignation ; besides, the worst part of the 
business is, that I am bound by a solemn promise not to betray 
those facts which ought, and doubtless would, set the matter in 
its proper light.” 

Helen paused abruptly. Mrs. Campbell looked at her husband, 
and her brow slightly contracted. 

“ I don’t understand what you mean, Helen,” replied she, 
charply. “ If you have got into a scrape, and are in possession 
of the information which will set you right again, you cannot be 
so absurd as to talk of such nonsense as ‘ solemn promises ’ in an 
affair of this kind.” 

“ If I might speak a few words first alone with papa, I will 
tell you afterwards, dearest mamma, everything I feel at liberty 
to detail ; and even then I think you will not blame me. Do not 
be alarmed, dear mamma ! I hope, nay, I feel almost certain, 
that this shadow will prove but a temporary one.” 

“ Certainly, Helen, I will leave you alone with your father, if 
you desire it ; though I do not see why this ridiculous mystery 
should be concealed from me,” exclaimed Mrs. Campbell, with 
rising color. “ I have as great a right to know your concerns as 
your father.” 

“ Mamma, if you talk in this way you will break my heart. 
’T is not that I wish to conceal anything from you. but I have 
suffered much already to keep my promise, and it is your love for 
me that I dread. You would, I know, suffer no considerations to 
prevent you making my justification known to Lord Alresford,” 
exclaimed Helen, excitedly, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“ At any rate, let me speak with Helen first, my dear. Her 
principles are such that I feel convinced, whatever this affair may 
be, she has acted therein conscientiously and well ; therefore, why 
should you increase her sorrow by needless reproach?” said Mr. 
Campbell, with more energy than was his wont. 

Colin Campbell, who lounged against the mantel-piece, atten- 
tively regarding his sister, here deliberately opened the window, 
and walked away into the garden. 

“I will go in a moment, Mr. Campbell,” replied his wife, 
somewhat cooled by the sight of Helen’s tears. “ So it is lord 
Alresford you have offended, my dear ? I never could endure the 


PIQUE. 


333 


sight of him, with his haughty, supercilious condescensions. I 
wish Amcsbury had been far enough off, before you had gone 
there. Did the Earl give you your dismissal, Helen ? ” 

“ No ; I quitted Amcsbury of my own free will and deed ; but 
I am also bound to add, Lord Alresford made no effort to induce 
me to alter my determination,” replied Helen, proudly. 

“One question more before I leave you, Helen. Has your 
sudden return anything to do with Sir Gerard Baynton ? ” and 
Mrs. Campbell fixed her eyes with piercing, anxious scrutiny on 
her daughter’s face. 

“ Not in the least, mamma. We parted on most friendly 
terms,” replied Helen, promptly, though a pang shot across her 
heart, as she thought on the probable coldness of his greeting 
and manner, could they now have met. 

“Well, I am glad of that. Sir Gerard, with his warm? frank 
disposition, is worth fifty fastidious Lord Alrcsfords ! I am sure 
I pity Mildred from the bottom of my heart. She could not have 
done worse had she married Colonel Sutherland. Now, my dear, 
I will leave you with your father. But make haste, for of course 
I am impatient to learn what I may of this silly mystery. You 
will find me in the greenhouse ; ” and affectionately kissing her 
daughter’s flushed cheek, Mrs. Campbell left the room. 

Helen then, in a few simple words, after binding her father 
to secrecy, related the whole of her adventure with Lady Cathe-' 
rine, and her subsequent interview with the Earl. Mr. Campbell 
listened attentively, and at first was disposed to blame Lord 
Alresford for unnecessary severity ; but Helen completely exon- 
erated him froln any intentional harshness. She represented that, 
to a man of the Earl’s strict notion of propriety, her conduct must 
appear inexcusable ; insomuch that, as he had afforded her every 
opportunity for self-justification, and had even urged it on a plea 
he well might deem unanswerable, she had declined all explana- 
tion ; therefore, far from suspecting Lady Catherine, he had every 
reason for supposing that the culprit of the midnight walk was 
herself. Mr. Campbell at first would not acquiesce in the force 
of this argument, though he greatly applauded Helen’s firmness 
m preserving Lady Catherine’s secret under the pressure of so 
heavy a temptation. 

Not entering into, that refined delicacy of feeling which prompted 
Helen to quit Amesbury, rather than remain in Sir Gerard Bayn- 
ton’s neighborhood with a stigma on her fair fame, Mr. Campbell, 
like most people speaking on the first impulse, expressed, also, 
amazement that she had not appealed to the candor and justice of 


334 


PIQUE. 


Lady Catherine, to confess at least so much as would be sufficient 
to reinstate her in the Earl’s good opinion ; a duty so manifest 
that he felt persuaded, however humiliating the task, she would 
at once have complied. Helen was not so sanguine on this point ; 
from Lady Catherine’s agitation, a secret conviction arose in her 
mind, that the mystery was one which might require some strug- 
gles and self-sacrifice to divulge. She knew not Lady Catherine 
well enough to appreciate her strength of character and unfaltering 
self-forgetfulness ; which, when another’s interest or happiness was 
concerned, induced her to reject every personal consideration. 

Long did Mr. Campbell and his daughter discuss, and various 
were their surmises on the motives of Lady Catherine’s conduct. 
Helen felt unspeakable comfort from the approval bestowed on her 
conduct by her beloved father. Mr. Campbell, however, though 
he spoke cheerfully, and for Helen’s sake (whose pale check attested 
how much she had suffered) held out encouraging hope that all 
might soon be well again, felt most profoundly grieved and annoyed 
at the suspicion resting on his darling Helen ; and no little irrita- 
tion, despite hi3 better judgment, lurked at heart against Lord 
Alresford, for his share in her undeserved disgrace. Though far 
from entering into his wife’s schemes for the establishment of her 
children, Mr. Campbell had allowed himself to dwell, with more 
complacency than his better reason sanctioned, on Sir Gerard 
Baynton’s presumed attachment to Helen ; and this violent inter- 
ruption of their intercourse, on grounds little creditable to the 
latter, brought a keener pang than poor Helen, who anxiously 
watched every turn of her father’s countenance, could divine. 

Though Mr. Campbell approved, and felt no little pride in his 
daughter’s firm reverence for her word, he thought she had carried 
her heroism far enough, and that Lady Catherine ought now to 
bear the penalty of her own rashness or indiscretion. Accordingly, 
before their long conference ended, Helen, at her father’s desire, 
wrote to Lady Catherine of all that had passed at Amesbury since 
her departure thence ; concluding with a short, though emphatic 
entreaty, that she would devise some method of convincing Lord 
Alresford of her innocence. Mr. Campbell promised to see this 
letter safely posted ; and then Helen hurried to her own room, to 
collect her thoughts, and to snatch five minutes’ repose ere she 
subjected herself again to her mother’s searching queries. 

Mrs. Campbell having given several very significant signs of 
impatience, by pacing hastily past the study window some four or 
five times during their conference, Mr. Campbell, at his daughter’s 
request, before proceeding on his errand into the village, joined 


PIQUE. 


335 


his wife on the lawn ; and after assuring her of his unequivocal 
approbation of Helen’s conduct, and her total innocence of anything 
that could justify her banishment from Amesbury, left her in a 
perfect blaze of wrath against the Earl. 

As for Helen, never had she cast so melancholy a gaze round 
her neat, comfortable little room, as she did now on taking refuge 
within it. Not that she sighed after the luxury of the apartment 
she had so lately inhabited ; no, she heeded not such things ; but 
her heart was sad, and she wept under the burden of the unmerited 
obloquy which had marred her dearest hope. Had her accuser 
been other than Lord Alresford, Helen fancied that she could have 
borne the trial more philosophically. What would be Sir Gerard’s 
course ? He had as yet no right to ask that explanation of her 
conduct, refused to the Ehrl ; would he, then, give her up on a 
suspicion grounded on evidence apparently so unimpeachable ? 
Bitter and perplexing were the doubts and fears which caused poor 
Helen’s tears to flow with a hopelessness she had never before 
experienced; and she sat absorbed in sorrowful reverie, until 
roused by her mother’s voice beneath her window, who besought 
her to come down immediately. Helen involuntarily sighed, as 
she arose and descended to the garden. 

Mrs. Campbell was there, walking up and down in a high state 
of excitement ; every now and then relieving her overwrought 
feelings by pausing and pouring forth her indignation to Colin, 
who was busily engaged constructing a fanciful border of wood- 
work on the lawn. As soon, however, as he perceived his sister, 
to Helen’s infinite delight, he left his work and came to meet her ; 
and well was it that he did so, for her spirits were in no condition 
to contend with her mother’s towering indignation ; especially 
when she learned the particulars of her interview with Lord 
Alresford. Colin very often and successfully interposed a word, 
in his dry abrupt manner, which helped her on, and diverted Mrs. 
Campbell’s ideas ; the latter, however, was not a woman to exhaust 
herself in words. When the first explosion of her anger was spent, 
Mrs. Campbell set herself resolutely to consider who was the hero- 
ine of the nocturnal ramble, if her daughter were not, of which 
fact she was perfectly convinced. Resolving that Helen’s hopes 
in Sir Gerard Baynton should not be destroyed by what she termed 
“ romantic nonsense,” and despairing of eliciting the truth by fair 
means, never did officer of detective force set about the discovery 
of hidden mystery more skilfully than Mrs. Campbell. She did 
not alarm her daughter by coming directly to the point ; but she 
doubled, she rounded, she receded, and put such a host of seem- 


336 


PIQUE. 


ingly irrelevant questions, that more than once during the evening 
Helen raised her eyes with a puzzled expression, wondering what 
her mother’s drift could possibly be. 

In the first instance, Mrs. Campbell’s suspicions vigorously 
affixed themselves on Mildred ; but, even had not her secret mis- 
giving been shaken by the result of Helen’s cross-examination, she 
would have felt too much ashamed of her doubts to communicate 
them even to her husband ; on Lady Catherine, therefore, as the 
only personage besides, with whom Helen appeared to be on terms 
of easy intimacy, her suspicion now centred ; and she pursued her 
scrutiny on all around and concerning her, with the quick, stealthy 
perseverance of a cat watching a mouse-hole ; eager to pounce on 
the slightest hint or clue likely to unravel the mystery. Mrs. 
Campbell’s fervent resolve to elucidate the matter was not one 
atom abated, when Helen, wearied of having her wits so constantly 
on the qui vive, and willing by any device to divert her mother’s 
attention, took the opportunity, during a tete-a-tete promenade in 
the garden, to relate to her a great part of what had passed between 
Sir Gerard and herself, and all Lady Emily Baynton’s kindness. 
Mrs. Campbell listened with the most complacent attention ; she 
felt that her darling Helen had all but gained the eminence she 
coveted for her, and the idea of losing it for what appeared to her 
a piece of fine, absurd delicacy, was intolerable. 

“ Well, my dear, after what you have told me about Sir Gerard, 
no one in their senses could believe anything so preposterous and 
unlikely as Lord Alresford’s accusation. Most people have their 
weak points, and fastidiousness is certainly one of his; so never 
mind, my dear ; when things get to the worst, they must mend I 
Depend upon it, Sir Gerard is not so green as to swallow every- 
thing his noble friend chooses to thrust down his throat. You 
look terribly worn, though, my dear Helen ; I fear you have been 
keeping late hours since your absence ; perhaps sitting up in your 
own room. As Mildred has found another companion for her 
vigils, I suppose Lady Catherine Neville used to take compassion 
upon you. This is the way young ladies get intimate, is it not, 
my dear?” asked Mrs. Campbell, dexterously turning the conver- 
sation again on Lady Catherine. 

“We used sometimes to have long talks in my room, mamma, 
though not often.” 

“ Is Lady Catherine likely to get married, do you know, Helen ? 
It is the oddest thing in the world. Do you think she has formed 
any attachment?” asked Mrs. Campbell, indifferently; though 
she paused on the threshold of the door, ere she entered the house, 
to listen to her daughter’s reply. 


PIQUE. 


337 


** She did not make any such confession to me, mamma,” 
answered Helen, calmly. 

“ Where did you say Colonel Sutherland is now, Helen ? ” asked 
Mrs. Campbell, once more pausing in the hall. 

“ I understood at his own house, somewhere in the neighborhood 
of London.” 

“ Oh ! ” replied Mrs. Campbell. 

Helen’s unexpected return home spread in a few hours over the 
village, and necessarily caused much comment and gossip. Mrs. 
Campbell,, since her daughter’s departure, had assumed a kind of 
oppressed, injured tone and manner, and professed total ignorance 
when it would please Helen to return ; a period of time she sup- 
posed so very distant as to be beyond her powers of calculation ; 
while it was reported Lady Elvaston had observed to one of her 
friends that, sorry as she should be to lose Helen Campbell from 
G-reysdon, yet, as her society conferred so much pleasure on Lady 
Alresford, she trusted that her visit to Amesbury would extend 
over many months. V arious, therefore, were the surmises hazarded ; 
while Helen, to her mother’s inexpressible indignation, had to run 
the gauntlet of all the village scandal and gossip. In the fabrica- 
tion of the latter, Miss Jenks’s talents stood unrivalled. She was 
the standard vinegar-cruet, whereat all the village busybodies 
came to imbibe the acid which gave a zest to the platitudes of their 
clique. Accordingly, her suppositions of the cause of Helen’s 
banishment from Amesbury, were retailed from house to house in 
Greysdon ; varied by comments offensive or defensive, as the par- 
ties were favorably or otherwise inclined towards the Campbells. 
“ People who turn up their noses at their equals, like Helen Camp- 
bell, and who aspire to associate with lords and ladies, must be 
content to be sent back rolling until they find their own level 
again, at every passing whim and caprice of those they toady,” 
was Miss Jenks’s favorite remark, to all whom she met for the two 
following days after Helen’s return. Her jealous, acrimonious 
disposition, unchecked by the presence of Helen’s friends, the 
Elvastons, indulged itself in its fullest malignity, and there seemed 
nothing too bad or improbable enough for Miss Jenks to insinuate. 

On returning home from some errand in the village, the evening 
following Helen’s arrival at Greysdon, Mrs. Campbell met Miss 
Jenks ; and, as usual, stopped to interchange greetings with her. 
This ceremony was no sooner over than Miss Jenks, in a smooth, 
insinuating tone — for there was a kind of downright pugnacity in 
Mrs. Campbell’s attitude, which often seriously discomfited her — 
began, — 


29 


338 


PIQUE. 


“ Well, Mrs. Campbell, and so Miss Helen is returned, I bear. 
I have been so overdone with business to-day, or I should have 
dropped in to congratulate you all ; for I suppose it can only be 
her engagement to Sir Gerard Baynton which brings her back so 
unexpectedly ? ” 

“ What can have put such an absurdity into your head, Miss 
Jenks ? Helen is not engaged ; nor will she be, as yet, I trust ; 
her society is too precious for us to desire any such thing,” replied 
Mrs. Campbell, promptly. 

“Indeed! though to be sure, I quite agree with you. It will 
be some time ere Henrietta can replace Helen ; who is so very 
superior to any girl I ever met with. Yet fancy, my dear friend, 
people were malicious enough to say, that you were wild to bring 
about a match between your daughter and that empty-headed, 
satirical baronet. No great match, after all, for Helen Campbell, 
was my invariable comment.” 

“ I am sorry that either you or anybody else should busy them- 
selves about my affairs, Miss Jenks,” was Mrs. Campbell’s sturdy 
reply. 

“ Unhappily, my dear Mrs. Campbell, people will talk as long 
as they have tongues. I hope Miss Helen left her noble friends 
well ? ” 

“ Perfectly well, I believe.” 

Miss Jenks seemed rather posed. However, as Mrs. Campbell 
walked on, she leisurely followed. 

“ What account does Miss Campbell bring of Colonel Suther- 
land ? What a shocking affair that duel was, to be sure ! Were 
I Lady Alresford I should never forgive myself. I do not wonder, 
after her misconduct, that the Earl is suspicious, and looks with 
displeasure on any person or thing which can recall past reminis- 
cences,” said Miss Jenks, darting a sharp glance at her companion’s 
face, to see how she bore the insinuation. 

“ I never heard that Lord Alresford Was suspicious, Miss Jenks j 
but you are probably better informed than we are. I shall carry 
this home, as a piece of news for Helen.” 

“ Well, I am glad my favorite Helen has got rid of that 
ill-tempered baronet, who was always my especial aversion. [ 
must confess, however, from what I witnessed at the Dornton ball, 
I thought he most probably would offer. This is a sad mercenary 
age, Mrs. Campbell ; and girls with no other dower than that of 
the Maid of Lodi in the old song, have a poor chance now-a-days. 
I suppose Helen, who is so unlike everybody else, returns primed 
with conquest from Amesbury ; though, like all the world, she also 


PIQUE. 


339 


finds its lord the least amiable or enviable part of her friend’s new 
possessions.” 

“ I do not understand you, Miss Jenks,” replied Mrs. Campbell, 
quickening her pace. 

“I understand that Lord Alresford has the most overbearing, 
violent temper ; and people say, — mind, I do not, Mrs. Campbell, 
— that one of the reasons of your daughter’s sudden return was a 
frightful quarrel with her friend’s husband. Excuse me, but I 
think it but a neighborly part to give you, should you desire it, an 
opportunity of publishing a formal contradiction,” added Miss 
Jenks, quickly, with a bland smile. 

“Perhaps you will be good enough#io take that office upon 
yourself, Miss Jenks, and oblige me by giving, as you express it, 
a formal contradiction to so very absurd a report. Helen and 
Lord Alresford parted on exceedingly courteous terms,” replied 
Mrs. Campbell, in unmoved tones. 

“Eeally! Well, I am glad to hear it. ’Tis a most difficult 
thing to detect truth from slander. Give my love to Helen. I 
hope all the grandees she associates with at Amesbury will not 
teach her to look down on her humble old friends at Greysdon,” 
said Miss Jenks, with an affected simper. 

“ I hope not. Good evening, Miss Jenks,” said Mrs. Campbell, 
making a very decided pause before her own door. 

“ Good day, Mrs. Campbell. By-the-bye, give Helen a hint to 
warn her friend to keep a sharp lookout after Mademoiselle Aglae. 
Mrs. Slater several times caught the Earl in earnest conversation 
with her ; and to my mind she is prettier than her mistress. A 
stitch m time saves nine, Mrs. Campbell; and Miss Effingham 
that was may feel very much indebted to her mother’s housekeeper 
for this piece of information. Farewell ! ” and Miss Jenks walked 
away with her peculiar jerking carriage, swinging the flounces of 
her gown half round her figure at every step. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

The remainder of' the day on which Lady Catherine quitted 
Amesbury, and the succeeding one, passed unmarked by any inci- 
dent at Wardour. No one called; and scarce a sound echoed 
through the narrow, lofty corridors of her ancient mansion. War- 


340 


PIQUE. 


dour Court, with its fine old woods and smiling landscape, failed 
now to excite the smallest enthusiasm in Lady Catherine’s bosom. 
The profound calm appeared to oppress her; out of doors, too, 
there reigned that stillness in the elements peculiar to the warm, 
damp atmosphere of early autumn ; when the tall grass and flowers 
wave mournfully in the light wind, every now and then blowing 
in short, sudden gusts, threading insidiously amid the foliage, and 
tossing in the air showers of beautiful variegated leaves. 

Nothing so effectually crushes the energies and deadens the 
faculties, as extreme lingering suspense ; for those who have no 
present hope cannot live, and act only for the future ; cannot enfold 
all their sensations, thoughts, and interests, as it were, in a chrys- 
alis, and lead a passive existence until a more sunshiny hereafter 
arouses them to renewed activity. So it was with Lady Catherine. 
Since her return home, she had almost ceased to struggle with the 
sorrow and apprehension which oppressed her ; and pensive and 
sad, she sat by the window in her favorite room on the terrace, 
gazing listlessly on the fading woods, and declining beauty of the 
flower-garden. Her unfinished picture stood near her on its easel ; 
but though she had quitted the breakfast-room some hour and a 
half, it still remained untouched and disregarded.^ In Mrs. Otway’s 
presence, indeed, rather than be subjected to her sympathy and 
admonition, Lady Catherine forced herself to put some restraint 
on her feelings ; but a sickening dread had taken possession of her 
mind, and bereft her almost of power to feign. The deep noiseless 
solitude of her home, instead of allaying, seemed to increase this 
Testless irritation of mind. She panted for action ; for words of 
sympathy and consolation, from one who could enter into the 
agonizing doubt which at times almost annihilated her reasoning 
powers under its terrible pressure. She thought of Helen Camp- 
bell ; of her gentle voice and kindly sympathy ; and an irrepress- 
ible desire to be better acquainted with one so sensitive and con- 
ciliating stole over her. Then, again, the progress of her reverie 
led her back to the dark thoughts perpetually haunting her mind. 
The clasp still remained unclaimed, entire, in her possession. 
What was now the mystery which shrouded Mr. Randolph ? and 
what did those dark red stains on the table of the hermitage por- 
tend, the remembrance of which made her shudder with horror and 
disgust? With her fair face buried in her hands, Lady Catherine 
gave herself up to the spell of bitter musing ; and hot tears dropped 
*>ne by one from between her quivering fingers on the window-seat. 
Suddenly she drew the brooch from her bosom, and earnestly and 
curiously examined the initial letters. A scarlet flush all at once 


PIQUE. 


341 


mounted to her brow and cheeks ; hurriedly she dashed the drops 
from her eyes, and again renewed her examination. Thus she 
remained for some moments ; her breath coming quick and fast ; 
then she hastily arose, and with rapid steps paced the room. 
While she was thus occupied, Mrs. Otway entered. Lady Cathe- 
rine’s cheek still glowed with the rich color which past emotion 
kindled. She paused and averted her head; then crossing the 
room hastily took up again her pallette and brushes. 

Mrs. Otway advanced and stood beside her. 

“ Well, Catherine, you have made wonderful progress in your 
picture this morning ; you must have worked hard since I saw 
you, ray dear.” 

A smile curled Lady Catherine’s lip. 

“ Besides, you are looking so much better too,” continued Mrs. 
Otway. “ Why, my dear, you were white as a sheet at breakfast ; 
now you have color in your cheeks, and your dear eyes have got 
rid of that wearied expression. You feel better this morning, 
Catherine, my love, do you not? ” 

Lady Catherine shook her head, and approached the window, 
against which Mrs. Otway had drawn her chair. 

“ Is it not very strange, Catherine, that we have heard nothing 
of Frederic Bandolph during these past months?” said Mrs. 
Otway, at last, after a long pause ; introducing Mr. Randolph’s 
name first, contrary to her usual custom. 

“ I have both seen and heard of him very lately,” replied Lady 
Catherine, in low accents. 

“ Indeed ! I declare he comes and vanishes like the ghosts 
in Shakspeare’s play of Richard the Third. Where is he now, 
Catherine ? ” 

“ In England ; but whether permanently settled here or not, is 
beyond my power to tell.” 

“ Then Mr. Randolph still retains his heartless mystery ? Break 
with him now by all means, my dear Catherine. Depend upon 
it, he is unworthy. This suspense is killing you by inches ! ” 
exclaimed Mrs. Otway, emphatically, almost angrily. 

“Yes; a few weeks, or, perhaps, days, shall terminate the 
mystery,” replied Lady Catherine, in low, resolute tones. “ But 
for an untoward event, this knowledge would already have been 
mine.” 

Mrs. Otway heaved a profound sigh. She fixed her eyes search- 
ingly on her companion. 

“ The other night, at Amesbury, Catherine, were you not to 
have met Mr. Randolph ? ” asked she, hesitatingly. 

29 * 


342 


PIQUE. 


“ Yes,” replied Lady Catherine, dryly, resuming her palette ; 
“ hut for some inexplicable reason he did not keep his appoint- 
ment, or else ” — and she shuddered. “ I suppose you heard from 
Wilmot enough to lead you to this supposition.” 

“ Wilmot said, my dear, that she strongly suspected your illness 
arose from exposure to the night-air. Of course, I inquired her 
reason for such a strange assertion, and from her reply I gathered 
sufficient certainty that Mr. Randolph had contrived to communi- 
cate with you. And you have as yet receiVed no explanation why 
he did not keep his appointment ? ” 

“ None,” replied the Lady Catherine, witli glowing cheek, but 
in that decisive tone which indicated that she did not wish the 
subject pursued. 

Mrs. Otway grumbled a little, fidgeted, and walked several 
times up and down the room before finally settling herself to 
work. 

“ Charles Turville has been to the lodge every morning since 
we left Amesbury, to inquire after you, Catherine. Poor fellow ! 
he cannot get over his banishment from your presence.” 

“ He will get over it in time, never fear. Maude Conway will 
eventually console him, I trust. By-the-bye, the letters will be 
here in half an -hour. I shall surely hear from her to-day. Poor 
Maude ! she and Charles Turville might make such a very happy 
pair ! ” 

“ Yes, if they both can forget the past,” rejoined Mrs Otway, 
gravely. 

“ Did you ever see Lord Normanton, Mrs. Otway, after he left 
Harrow ? ” asked Lady Catherine, suddenly, after a very long 
pause, during which her brushes had again been laid aside for a 
restless wander up and down the room. 

“ I have not seen him for ten, — let me see, no, — fifteen years. 
Sir Gerard Baynton told me he distinguished himself greatly at 
college. Lord Normanton must be now seven or eight and twenty 
years old. How time flies, to be sure ! It seems but yesterday 
since you were all children playing together on the lawn yonder ” 

“ Maude appears to idolize her brother,” said Lady Catherine, 
pursuing the thread of her own meditations. “It was odd that 
we never met abroad.” 

“ I have often thought so, Catherine. It is certain Lord Nor- 
man ton could not have visited Venice while we were resident 
there ; for there never arrived an Englishman of any distinction 
who did not appear at Lord Alresford’s soirees, or your own, as 
long as your dear father’s health permitted. But for this unfor* 


PIQUE. 


343 


fcunate wound, my dear, Normanton, I doubt not, would have been 
over here to renew his friendship with you. I shall not be surprised 
if this foolish quarrel makes him a cripple for life.” 

“I wish you would not indulge in such presentiments, Mrs. 
Otway. Did not Sir Gerard tell us that Lord Normanton is now 
convalescent, and able to move from the sofa ? I hope there will 
be a letter from Maude by this day’s post,” continued Lady Cath- 
erine, in tones slightly, though very slightly, irritable, while a 
frown contracted her brow. 

4 “ Well, my dear, I hope with all my heart my words may not 
prove true.” 

Lady Catherine threw herself into a chair near to the window. 

“ I have never even seen a portrait of Lord Normanton at 
More ton,” said she, at length, musingly. 

“Lady Normanton is too much occupied with her whims and 
ailments, to think of anybody else ; but Maude, I doubt not, pos- 
sesses a portrait of her brother. You should ask her, my dear ; 
that is, presuming you desire to see what your old playfellow is 
like, before you meet.” 

Lady Catherine made no reply ; and the two sat for some time 
in silence, relieved only by the occasional click of Mrs. Otway’s 
knitting-pins. Lady Catherine’s cheek was still flushed; every 
now and then its hue deepened, and a strange brilliancy played 
in and lighted her eyes as she momentarily raised them from the 
ground, and then suffered them to droop again. She appeared 
agitated, struggling to repress the thrilling thought which threat- 
ened to break forth in words, despite her efforts ; but though her 
lips oft moved almost convulsively, Mrs. Otway perceived it not. 
Tranquillized by her hasty glance at Lady Catherine’s face, when 
she first entered the room, she sat complacently pursuing her 
wonted occupation ; so absorbed in the difficult task of bringing 
all the crooked, disjointed parts of her beloved pupil’s history to 
fit, and form an harmonious whole, that she actually started, when, 
after a very long interval, she heard herself addressed again. 

“ Should you like to go and reside in Italy again, dear Mrs. 
Otway?” was the startling query which burst on the old lady’s 
astonished ear. 

“ Italy ! Bless me, my dear, I am very comfortable here ! 
What should / do in Italy?” rejoined she, quickly, fixing her 
spectacles so as to obtain a clear steady gaze into her companion’s 
face. 

“ Because,” continued Lady Catherine, in tones unmoved, “I 
cannot longer endure this life of perpetual suspense ; neither will 


344 


PIQUE. 


I live at Wardour burdened by a secret, which, even in the society 
of those I love and trust most, requires constant, painful vigilance 
over myself not to divulge. Therefore, a month hence, unless my 
lot is materially altered, I am fully determined to leave England.” 

“ Catherine, you surely cannot seriously contemplate such a 
project ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Otway, aghast. “ How can we possibly 
be more comfortably or delightfully settled than here ? Mr. Ran- 
dolph is also in England. My dear, what can you be thinking 
about ? ” 

“ Another interview with Frederic Randolph will best interpret 
my thoughts.” 

“ You have so much to interest you in this neighborhood just 
now, Catherine. There is Sir Gerard Baynton over head and ears 
in love with Miss Campbell ; and thalb beautiful Lady Alresford, 
who is evidently playing at cross questions and crooked answers 
with her noble-looking husband. You have taken upon yourself 
to make a marriage between Maude Conway and poor Charles. 
How is this to proceed if you go to Venice, my dear, I should like 
to know ? Then, again, you have to renew your acquaintance with 
young Lord Normanton. Suppose, Catherine, we order the car- 
riage after lunch, and drive to More ton. I think we have behaved 
very shabbily in not showing more interest in Lady Normanton’s 
maladies.” 

“ As you like,” replied Lady Catherine, opening the window, 
and strolling out on the terrace. 

“ That old copy-book truism, ‘ mystery is odious/ certainly is 
one of the wisest of saws. I hate travesties and silly secrets, 
which, in nine cases out of ten, turn out much ado about nothing,” 
grumbled Mrs. Otway, wrathfully. “ I dare vouch, Frederic Ran- 
dolph is one of the Carbonari, or something of that kind, — a pro- 
scribed man. But, good gracious ! who have we here at this early 
hour ? ” exclaimed she, suddenly stopping, as the hall door-bell 
pealed. “I wish it might be either Lord Alresford or Charles 
Turville, to put the nonsense that dear child has just been talking 
out of her head. She never seems to listen to any one else ” 

The door opened, and Lady Alresford entered. She came for- 
wards hastily, and with the kindest of smiles shook the old lady 
cordially by the hand. Mrs. Otway fancied when it vanished, that 
her face wore a saddened expression. 

“ I hope Lord Alresford is well?” asked she, for the contrary 
to her demand was the only evil Mrs. Otway imagined could 
possibly assail Mildred. 

‘ Quite, I thank you ; ” and Lady Alresford moved towards tho 


pique. 345 

table, whereon, during their salutations, Hudson laid the Setters 
just arrived by post. 

“ We were in hopes of seeing Lord Alresford here to-day. I 
wanted to have a little conversation with him about Lady Cathe- 
rine. She is not well, and has just now strolled out on the ter- 
race. If your ladyship will excuse me a moment, I will call her.” 

“ No ; pray do not, Mrs. Otway. To tell you the truth, I came 
hither so early this morning hoping to have a private conference 
with her ; so, if you will allow me, I will take these letters and 
join her on the terrace,” said Lady Alresford, quickly ; for amongst 
the handwritings of Lady Catherine’s correspondents, Mildred 
detected a character infinitely dear to her. 

“ Can she have found out anything about Mr. Eandolph, I won- 
der ? But what a sweet, obliging creature Lady Alresford is ! I 
wonder the Earl does not worship her ; but perfect happiness is 
not of this world,” ejaculated Mrs. Otway, as she stood at the 
window, and watched Mildred’s light step down the terrace. 

At its extreme end was an ornamented wire enclosure, for gold 
and silver pheasants. Against this Lady Catherine stood, watching 
the graceful movements of her favorites. She turned her hdad at 
the sound of Mildred’s step, and with a smile of welcome advanced 
to meet her. 

♦“ You see, Catherine, I have not only paid you an early visit, 
but have actually taken upon myself the office of delivering your 
letters also. I found them on the table, and, with Mrs. Otway’s 
permission, have brought them to you, as I hope to lure you to a 
walk round the garden,” said Mildred, laughingly, tendering the 
packet of letters after they had exchanged greetings. 

Lady Catherine’s eye glanced eagerly over the letters. She 
selected one from the number. 

“ This one is from Maude Conway. Mildred, I am sure you 
will excuse my anxiety about her,” exclaimed she, hastily tearing 
open the envelope. “As for the remainder of the letters, since I 
do not recognize the hand of any of my correspondents, I suppose 
they are not of much import, and will serve to while away a soli- 
tary hour.” 

“Is Lord Normanton no better? ” asked Mildred, anxiously, as 
an expression of sorrow and anxiety flitted across Lady Catherine’s 
brow as she read. 

“ Maude writes, that her brother has had a slight relapse, and 
she fears that the shock to his constitution is greater than was at 
first imagined. He suffers dreadfully from depression of spirits. 
Colonel Sutherland is pronounced out of danger.” 


346 


PIQUE. 


Mildred made no reply, but the earnest prayer arose on her lips 
that, even now, the memory of the past might be healed, and the 
future yet abound with numerous blessings. 

“ What is the matter, Mildred? You appear sad, as if some- 
thing vexatious had happened since we met,” said Lady Catherine, 
after a long pause, turning her eyes inquiringly on the face of her 
companion, as they walked side by side. “ I hope Lord Alresford 
is well ? ” 

“Yes; but recently he has had a great deal of annoyance,” — 
and Mildred paused, uncertain what next to say. 

“I am very grieved to hear it. I thought, during my recent 
visit to you, that at times he appeared extremely depressed,” said 

Lady Catherine, slowly; “so much so, Mildred may I go 

on ? May I speak now, dear Mildred, without fear of giving you 
offence ? ” 

“ Go on ; say what you will, Catherine,” replied Lady Alresford, 
struggling to quell the emotion these few words produced. 

“ Well, then, Mildred, sometimes in my heart I accused you of 
coldness and affected indifference. Forgive me, if I wronged you, 
when, perhaps, I imagined that I detected the exquisite pain your 
deportment occasionally inflicted on Lord Alresford’s proud, 
sensitive heart. Are you angry, Mildred? ” 

‘“No, Catherine; because I acknowledge that Lord Alresford 
has had great, just cause of complaint,” replied Mildred, firmly, 
though her lip trembled. “ To this bitter retrospect, however, the 
last two days have added increased sorrow. Helen Campbell — ” 

“ Helen Campbell! ” and Lady Catherine turned her large, full 
eyes anxiously on Mildred’s face. “What of Helen Campbell ? 
Where is she ? ” 

“ Gone.” 

“ Gone where? ” 

“ Home ; on account of a serious misunderstanding between Lord 
Alresford and herself. She quitted Amesbury yesterday morning, 
early,” said Mildred, keenly watching the effect of her communi- 
cation on her companion. 

“What misunderstanding? Speak, I beseech you, Mildred,” 
exclaimed Lady Catherine, vehemently. 

“ The last evening we spent together at Amesbury, Lord Alres- 
ford, instead of retiring after the party broke up, went out to 
walk ; when he met an individual closely muffled in a large cloak, 
wandering in the shrubberies, who apparently did not see him, but 
whom he followed for some distance across the park, until he saw 
him leave it by the gate near the Avington turnpike. The Earl, when 


PIQUE. 


347 


he returned to the house, retired again to the library, the windows 
of which, you may not know, command the balcony of Helen’s 
room ; and presently he saw her descend the steps leading into the 
garden, and in like manner return to her room again, after an 
absence of an hour or more. These two circumstances combined, 
you may conceive, Catherine, to fix an injurious suspicion against 
poor Helen ; and what is more, one of the gardeners, the following 
morning, picked up, on the cedar walk, a large brooch that Lord 
Alresford had given to her but a few days previously.” Mildred 
paused, and turned away her head ; for her lips trembled with 
agitation ; and yet she felt that she was only performing her duty 
by Helen. 

Lady Catherine was silent, and when Mildred ventured to raise 
her eyes to her face, it was pale as the whitest marble. 

“ Tell me all. When Helen was accused, did she not assert — 
prove her innocence ? ” demanded she at length, slowy. 

“ No. She firmly refused the slightest explanation or reply, to 
the inquiry Lord Alresford thought it his duty to make. Helen’s 
resolution was inflexible on this point ; and as the Earl would not 
or could not, after what he had witnessed, express his belief in her 
integrity, she preferred leaving Amesbury altogether. In spite, 
however, of her strange refusal to make any statement, I cannot 
believe Helen guilty of the duplicity towards Sir Gerard, of which 
Lord Alresford is so convinced and indignant ; and, if after all, 
her innocence can be made manifest by the simple explanation she 
so perversely refuses, think what it must cost her ! for I believe 
her to be truly and sincerely attached to Sir Gerard ; and this* 
affair, I fear, as it remains, must lead to their inevitable separation.” 

Lady Catherine leaned against the low wall of the terrace. Her 
lips moved, but no words were audible therefrom. Mildred for a 
few minutes stood silently by her side, shocked at the emotion her 
statement had produced ; but yet the more confirmed in her belief 
of Helen’s innocence, and in her resolution not to allow her to be 
sacrificed. 

“ The whole affair appears to me so strange and improbable — 
so unlike anything that could spring from any circumstance in 
Helen’s uneventful life — that I determined to seek your advice 
and counsel ; hoping, as you were her latest companion on that 
unfortunate evening, you might probably prove a greater friend 
than she is willing to be to herself ; and perhaps afford me some 
clue to this very inexplicable mystery.” 

Lady Catherine withdrew her hands from her face, and riveted 
a keen glance on Lady Alresford. 


348 


PIQUE. 


“ You suspect me, Mildred ? ” exclaimed she, resolutely. 

Lady Alresford made no reply. 

“ How do you know that I was the last person in HeLen'i 
society ? ” 

“Forgive me, dear Catherine, if, in my keen anxiety to clear 
my friend, I resorted to spying, otherwise unpardonable. Wilmot 
told my maid that you had dismissed her without requiring her 
services on that evening, as you intended to spend some time 
longer with Miss Campbell in her room than you wished to keep 
her up. This I elicited from Aglae.” 

Again Lady Catherine’s agitation became uncontrollable. Mil- 
dred silently grasped her hand ; it was cold and nerveless. 

“ Lady Alresford,” at length said she, speaking in tones sub- 
dued, though firm, “you are right. I can clear your friend. 
Helen, with her noble truth and forbearance, shall not be 
sacrificed ; neither shall Sir Gerard Baynton, when too late, have 
reason to deplore the hour when my destiny cast its shadow over 
his. Yes, to-day Helen shall be completely exonerated, even at a 
cost the bitterness of which none can comprehend. I will see 
Lord Alresford at once; ” and she turned away, to hide the tears 
which now flowed down her cheeks. 

Mildred’s heart throbbed at the sight of the grief apparent on 
Lady Catherine’s beautiful face. She knew what that unutterable 
anguish is which darkens and fills the soul with insupportable ter- 
rors. Tender and gentle are the words and sympathy of those who 
themselves have been tried by affliction ; with pitying commisera- 
tion, therefore, Mildred looked on Lady Catherine ’s’poignant sor- 
row ; and twining her arm round her friend’s waist, said, gently, — 

“ Catherine, dearest, may I not know this secret ? Is there 
nothing I can do ? ” 

“ Nothing, Mildred ; only I thank you for this opportunity of 
doing Helen justice. The sooner the ordeal is over, the better. I 
will go immediately to Amesbury ; but not with you, for I need 
composure and strength for the revelation I have to make,” said 
she, hurriedly. “ Why did not Helen at once appeal to me, 
Mildred ? I would instantly have vindicated her.” 

“ She has now done so, doubtless. I recognized her handwrit- 
ing in the address of one of the letters the post brought you just 
now, Catherine. Helen could not, I am sure, distrust for an 
instant your generosity,” said Mildred, gently and soothingly. 

In a second the letters were again in Lady Catherine’s hand, and 
soon swift tears fell as she perused Helen’s forcible though simple 
appeal. There was also another letter from Mrs. Campbell, who, 


PIQUE. 


349 


apologizing for the liberty, acknowledged that, by dint of persever- 
ing inquiry, she had at length surprised her daughter into the 
admission that her ladyship was the last person with whom she 
had conversed on that memorable evening; and, therefore, she 
presumed to request Lady Catherine would correct any false impres- 
sion on Lord Alresford’s mind, by testifying that Helen remained 
in her room up to the hour when her ladyship took leave for the 
night. 

“ Poor Helen ! how she must have suffered. I despair of ever 
being able sufficiently to express my gratitude for her generous 
unselfishness. Oh, Mildred ! to think that, stranger as I am to 
them, I have plunged her family into this deep affliction. Tell 
me — does Sir Gerard Baynton know of Helen’s apparent 
disgrace ? ” asked Lady Catherine, eagerly. 

“ I left Sir Gerard with Lord Alresford when I set out hither,” 
replied Mildred, unwilling to add one needless pang to what her 
friend already suffered. 

“ Did you not see him also, Mildred ? Had you not one exten- 
uating word for Helen ? ” 

“ Yes, Catherine. I besought Sir Gerard to have patience, and 
I bade him hope. Lord Alresford conceived it to be his duty to 
explain fully the reasons of Helen’s absence ; but, dear Catherine, 
he added no comment of his own.” 

Lady Catherine paused. The shade on her brow darkened. 

“ Your words appear to indicate, Mildred, that your husband’s 
censure would be severe,” said she, at length, moodily. 

“ You know Lord Alresford’s strict standard, dear Catherine ; 
and Helen appears guilty of so treacherous a deed, that I fear his 
indignation is strongly kindled ; though, most considerately, he 
has forborne to speak of it in my presence.” 

“Is Sir Gerard’s faith shaken, Mildred? Does he love Helen 
too well to believe aught, but on the fullest, most positive testi- 
mony ? ” asked Lady Catherine, as she turned towards the house. 

“ Sir Gerard would have set off for Greysdon instantly, but at 
my request, my urgent entreaty, he consented to delay his journey 
until to-night, or to-morrow at latest. He cannot, you know, dis- 
believe the Earl’s positive statement ; but he flatters himself that 
Helen will yield to his entreaty, his love, and explain to him alone 
her mysterious absence. But, Catherine, how ill you appear! 1 ’ 
exclaimed Lady Alresford, in alarm, observing that the pallor on 
Lady Catherine’s cheek looked, if possible, more settled and ashy, 
and that scarce a tinge of color shone in her lips. 

“It is nothing ; a little water will speedily revive me. Now, 
30 


350 


PIQUE. 


dear Mildred, farewell. 1 must spend the next half hour alcne. 
Tell Lord Alresford I wish to speak to him privately on important 
business, an hour or so hence ; but, as you love me, hint not to 
him its purport. Mildred, Helen Campbell is worthy of your 
friendship. She shall esteem me also ; and when she knows all, 
she will see I can emulate her noble courage.” 

“ She never doubted it, believe me, dear Catherine. Shall I 
see you at Amesbury ? ” 

“No, Mildred ; my interview to-day must only be with Lord 
Alresford,” replied Lady Catherine, as she hurriedly entered the 
sitting-room. 

Lady Alresford stood silently on the terrace for a few minutes, 
and then, not feeling disposed for another colloquy with Mrs. 
Otway, walked to the front of the mansion, where her carriage was 
waiting, and drove immediately homewards. 

Glad and fervent were Mildred’s feelings at having accomplished 
Helen’s rescue. Lady Catherine then, after all, was the heroine 
of the midnight ramble ; and for whom, but for some one who 
possessed her love, could she have risked so much ? Mildred felt 
abashed, ashamed of her former suspicions ; yet, at the same time, 
a thrill of rapturous joy shot through her heart. Could it be that 
her husband had never loved other than herself? That, amidst 
her caprice, vacillation, and coldness, his heart had remained con- 
stant to her, and daily mourned her alienation ? She thought of 
the many solitary hours she had suffered him to spend alone, under 
the impression of her dislike and unkindness, and contrasted her 
own conduct with his unremitting desire to afford her every grati- 
fication — his forbearance, and indulgence of all her whims and 
caprices. Tears sprang to her eyes as she mused on the past 
— that past, so often fraught to all with keen, agonizing reminis- 
cences of actions done, of words spoken beyond the power of recall. 
But the future — might it not have some compensation in store for 
both ? She felt that the perfect confidence and devotion which the 
Earl demanded, and from which she shrank while shadowed by her 
doubts during the early days of her marriage, would now be her 
highest bliss. But, unasked, how could she assume that privilege 
so long rejected 4 ? Lord Alresford, neither during their courtship 
per since their union, had spoken to her of love ; but yet a voice 
whispered that she was infinitely dear to him. Would he have 
told her so ? — would he have asked her love on that evening after 
their return from the Chauntry, when she broke away from him so 
abruptly? Immersed in this train of thought, Mildred looked 
round with surprise when the carriage stopped at the door of hei 


PIQUE. 


351 


home. . Iler first impulse on alighting was to seek her husband, 
and deliver Lady Catherine’s message. Accordingly, she proceeded 
to the library. Lord Alresford was writing intently, and did not 
turn his head when the door opened. Mildred advanced, and 
lightly laid her hand on his shoulder. He looked up and smiled. 

“You have been taking an early drive or walk this mornina;, 
Mildred.” 

“I have been to Wardour. Lady Catherine has an affair of 
importance to consult you upon, and will be here in about half an 
hour. I came to tell you, that you might not be absent ; but now 
my errand is accomplished, I think I had better say farewell, for 
you appear overwhelmed with business this morning,” said she, 
glancing, half laughingly, at the table, which was covered with 
papers. 

“No, Mildred, you do not interrupt me. What does Lady 
Catherine wish to consult me about? ” 

“ She begged me not to give you the slightest hint. Though, 
indeed, I know so little of her proposed confidence that the prohi- 
bition was almost unnecessary,” rejoined Mildred, hastily. “ Can 
I not be of any use to you, Lord Alresford, in the arrangement or 
despatch of these letters ? It would make me so very happy.” 

This was the first time that Mildred had sought to identify her- 
self in his occupations. The Earl looked up, surprised at her 
softened manner and tone. Her hand lightly rested on his 
shoulder, as she still stood by the table. 

“ May I put seals on that heap of letters? ” asked she, hastily 
throwing aside her bonnet. 

“ Certainly, if it will afford you any amusement,” replied Lord 
Alresford, laughing, and drawing a chair to the table. “ My long 
interview this morning with poor Baynton has thrown me back ; 
all these letters ought to have been ready for the post.” 

Mildred glanced at her husband ; she thought he looked pale 
and harrassed. All present sympathy for the friend whom she 
had so effectually served vanished; she thought only of him. 
Had she done kindly and well in letting him deal thus sternly, 
though justly, according to the aspect in which he alone could 
view Helen’s case, without one word of sympathy from her lips — 
and she his wife ? 

“ Lord Alresford,” at length began she, while tears rose in her 
eyes, “do not think me insensible to the anxiety you must have 
suffered about this affair of Helen Campbell’s. I have never 
spoken to you on the subject, because I did not know whether it 
might not be displeasing to you ; but you have performed a painful 
duty in a way my heart thanks you for.” 


352 


PIQUE. 


“ At length, then, Mildred, you render me justice, even at the 
expense of your friend ? ” 

“ Had I known as little of Helen Campbell’s character as you 
do, I should have acted precisely in a similar manner.” 

Lord Alresford made no reply, but continued writing. Mildred, 
when she had finished her self-imposed task, watched his progress. 
Her beautiful lips were slightly parted, and her hair, disordered 
by her bonnet, drooped in masses of ringlets over her cheek, to 
which agitation had imparted on unwonted bloom. Presently the 
Earl laid down his pen. Their eyes met ; she smiled one of her 
brightest, sunniest smiles. 

Lord Alresford glanced from her beautiful face to the closely- 
written sheet before him. Some unusual emotion seemed to agi- 
tate him. He turned again towards her, and met the same sweet, 
earnest gaze. 

“ Mildred,” said he at length, in a voice which slightly faltered 
from its usual tone of manly decision, “ I cannot do this thing 
that I have firmly resolved, unknown to you. Bead,” and he took 
the letter from the writing-case before him, and laid it down beside 
her. 

In a moment Lady Alresford understood all ; he was going to 
leave her ! She did not reply. In her efforts to realize, to wres- 
tle with, the terrible fear, the blood seemed to recede from her 
heart, and for a moment she sat with features pale and rigid, her 
eyes bent steadily to the ground. 

“Mildred!” 

His voice roused her. 

“It is come at last. You are going — going to leave me,” 
murmured she in faltering accents, and her head sank on her 
folded hands. 

At this moment a servant announced the Lady Catherine 
Neville. 

Lady Alresford started, and then hastily quitted the room. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Lady Catherine immediately entered. Her veil was drawn 
before her face. She paused, and glanced round the room, as 
Lady Alresford quickly passed, and then walked slowly forwards 
to meet the Earl. 


PIQUE. 


353 


“I am sorry you have had the trouble of coming hither. Why 
did you not summon me to Wardour?” said Lord Alresford, 
kindly, taking her hand, and leading her to a chair. 

“ Mildred has not given you, then, the slightest intimation of 
the purport of my visit ? ” asked Lady Catherine, in a low, 
unsteady voice, flinging back her veil. 

Lord Alresford looked earnestly at her. 

“ Catherine, what has happened ? Something ! it must be 
calamitous indeed, to make you look and speak thus. You came 
to seek my advice ; tell me, then, the plain facts of the case, and 
command my services to the uttermost,” exclaimed the Earl, rising 
and approaching Lady Catherine again. 

Not a shade of color gave life to her beautiful face, and a mist 
shadowed the eyes which a little time ago sparkled in their own 
sunny light. For a moment Lady Catherine covered her face with 
her hands.' 

The Earl gazed at her in surprise. 

“ You alarm me seriously. What can you possibly have to con- 
sult me upon capable of producing this^agitation ? Compose yocr- 
self, Catherine. We have known each other too well, and too long,, 
to feel embarrassment in saying anything we deem necessary to 
communicate; and you are the very last person in the world I 
should dream of having a scene with.” 

“ Nor shall you be disappointed. Are we quite secure against 1 
interruption ? ” said Lady Catherine, glancing round the room. 

“Quite sure; but, if you please, I will desire myself to be 
denied to every one,” said the Earl, laying his hand on the bell. 

Lady Catherine hastily arrested his arm. 

“No, do not summon any one here. Do not ring, I beseech 
you.” 

“ As you will. Now, Catherine, let me at once be informed of 
this affair which causes you so much uneasiness,” rejoined Lord 
Alresford, very kindly, taking a seat near her. 

“You have all along had the highest opinion of my truth and 
integrity, and believed me sincere in the unlimited confidence I 
expressed in your friendship, Lord Alresford ; what will you say if 
you find that I have been deceiving you, and while making this 
profession have kept back something which would greatly — wholly 
have changed our positions ? ” 

“ You must assume an utterly improbable circumstance, Cathe- 
rine. Thre.e months after Lord Willingham’s decease you became 
of age, and consequently, from thenceforth, your own mistress in 
all things. What could it have availed you, therefore, to deceive 
me during this short period ? ” 


354 . 


PIQUE. 


Lady Catherine shook her head mournfully, and a slight shudder 
passed over her. 

“ You little imagined, Lord Alresford, that the result of your 
late most kind welcome to me here would overwhelm you with per- 
plexity ; and not you alone, but also assail the fame and happiness 
of one of your guests,” resumed she, with as much firmness as she 
could command, though her voice at last sank into an almost 
inaudible whisper. 

“You speak in enigmas, Lady Catherine. I am quite at a loss 
to divine to what you possibly can allude. I know of no perplex- 
ity resulting from your visit ; on the contrary, it has afforded us 
many pleasant reminiscences,” rejoined Lord Alresford, fixing a 
sharp, scrutinizing gaze on her face. 

“ I have heard for the first time, this morning, from Lady Alres- 
ford, the suspicion under which Helen Campbell labors, and which 
led to her leaving your house.” Lady Catherine paused ; large 
drops stood on her brow. “ How shall I say it ? Can you not 
guess, Lord Alresford ? Helen Campbell did not do that of which 
she is accused. She is perfectly innocent,” exclaimed Lady Cathe- 
rine, starting from her chair, and pacing up and down the room. 

Lord Alresford looked amazed. 

“ And if it were not Miss Campbell whom I beheld return from 
the garden, who then was it ? ” asked he at length, slowly and 
calmly, after a long silence. 

Lady Catherine paused ; then slowly advancing, she stood before 
the Earl, and withdrawing her hands from her face, said, steadily 
and distinctly, — 

“ It was I, Lord Alresford — I ! ” 

“You, Lady Catherine! You! who can receive *yisits when 
and from whom you will at Ward our — impossible that you can 
have descended to anything so disgraceful as a clandestine meeting 
at midnight in my grounds ! ” exclaimed Lord Alresford, in indig- 
nant amazement. 

A vivid flush spread over Lady Catherine’s face and neck, and 
then receded again. Still she stood before the Earl, as if rooted to 
the spot. 

“ I took Helen Campbell’s most sacred word to keep my secret 
Nobly has she performed her promise, Lord Alresford ; and thus 
I exonerate her from every particle of blame. She knew not my 
errand ; she knows it not now. All she has learned is from your 
own lips. The communication which rendered my subsequent act 
requisite, reached me when we were tqgether in her room. I will 
add that, if argument or entreaty could have availed to divert mo 


PIQUE. 


355 


from my design, Helen’s would have done so. She pleaded elo- 
quently, and showed as strong an abhorrence of what I meditated 
as you could do, my lord. Without thinking of the suspicion I 
might entail upon her, clad in her cloak and bonnet, I left her room 
by the balcony, and regained it the same way. Helen coura- 
geously sacrificed herself to hide my disgrace. Her only partici- 
pation, my lord, in the affair is, that she has suffered with me. 

“An hour ago, Catherine, I should have deemed it utterly 
impossible such an avowal could proceed from your lips ; nor can 
I express the feelings of indignant surprise and grief with which 
I now hear it. Fear not, I will do ample justice to Miss Camp- 
bell,” said the Earl, with emotion. “ But, Catherine,” continued 
he, earnestly, “ surely, this bare exculpation of Miss Campbell is 
not all I am to learn of this grievous affair ! Think with what 
sorrow and consternation your father would have heard such a 
confession from your lips. In the name of our ancient friendship, 
Catherine, do not give me the pain of seeing you persist in a 
degrading intrigue, which no circumstances can justify. You 
stand almost alone in the world ; and your father, by intrusting to 
me the sole management of your concerns, seemed to indicate his 
desire that, as far as possible, I should replace his loss, and act in 
all things as your brother. I implore you, then, disappoint not 
his wishes ” 

“ Lord Alresford ; you shall hear all — all. Yet what will you 
say when my folly becomes fully revealed ? ” exclaimed Lady 
Catherine, mournfully. 

“ I. was not aware that you had formed any engagement, — any 
attachment, abroad, Catherine. In short, who was this person you 
condescended to meet?” 

She struggled for composure, and for a brief space excitement 
kindled again the beautiful hues of health on her face. Large 
tears clung to her dark eyelashes as they drooped on her cheek ; 
and she half turned aside her head. 

“ Did you ever meet Mr. Randolph, Lord Alresford? ” said she, 
in a voice scarce raised above a whisper, so tremulous were its 
tones. 

“ Yes. Mr. Randolph, then, was the person for whom you made 
this sacrifice ? ” 

Lady Catherine silently bent her head. 

“ In the first place, who is Mr. Randolph? and if he has been 
so fortunate as to obtain your affection, why does he not come 
forward and ask your hand ? — if, indeed, he has the slightest 
pretension to do so,” demanded Lord Alresford, with clouded brow. 


356 


PIQUE. 


Again the blood rushed to Lady Catherine’s cheek. 

“ My father loved Frederic Kandolph, Lord Alresford ; and, bui 
a few weeks before his death, gave his assent to our union, on cer- 
tain conditions. For some reason, unknown to me at the present 
moment, Mr. Randolph chose to conceal his position and circum- 
stances in life. When we quitted Italy, after the lapse of some 
months he was to visit us at Wardour, where he promised every- 
thing should be explained ; but ” 

She paused. Her utterance, which had been rapid and nervous, 
seemed all at once to fail her. 

“ Your father’s death intervened, Catherine. But since then, 
has Mr. Randolph proved himself worthy of the prize to which he 
dared aspire, by faithfully adhering to his promise? ” 

“ He has as yet told me nothing ; but that he will do so, fully, 
honorably, I have not the smallest doubt. Did you know Mr. 
Randolph, neither would you harbor suspicion of his faith, my lord.” 

A disdainful smile curled the Earl’s lip. 

“ Nearly a year has elapsed since Lord Willingham’s death, and 
you talk to me of confidence in a man, who, aware of your isolated 
position, can keep you in this state of suspense ! Nay, and by his 
evil influence dares subject you, Lady Catherine, to imputations 
alike dishonorable to your character and station ! You hesitate 
to discard this man, who, under the powerful promptings of love, 
and doubtless of ambition also, yet dares not avow himself ! 
Remember who you are, Lady Catherine. Remember that in you 
centre the honors of Willingham ; and will you venture to bestow 
them upon an individual who appears not even to have an honest 
name to boast of ? ” 

Lady Catherine’s eyes were riveted on the Earl when he ceased 
speaking ; her lips w«ere firmly, tightly compressed. 

“ I have no longer the power to follow your advice,” murmured 
she. 

“Catherine, can you acknowledge such weakness? Can you 
avow such mental bondage ? This man, so much beneath you as 
to be compelled to resort to travesty to obtain admittance into the 
same society as yourself — this Mr. Randolph — refer him to me.” 

“ Lord Alresford, you know not all yet. You refuse to concede 
to Mr. Randolph one ennobling virtue. I know him to be true, 
faithful, honorable ! I dare tell you that now, which will not only 
prove how deeply rooted is my trust, but that I have also dared 
act upon this conviction,” exclaimed Lady Catherine ; and in a 
low, rapid tone, she commenced with minute accuracy tiie relation 
of every incident which had occurred at Narbonne. 


PIQUE. 


357 


With averted head and cheek of varying hues, Lady Catherine 
proceeded ; but notwithstanding her trepidation, there was a reso- 
lute emphasis in her voice, a kind of determined continuancy in 
her narrative, which riveted the Earl’s attention. Despite her 
efforts, a few rebellious tears occasionally gathered in her eyes, but 
indignantly she dashed them away, and when all was told, she 
stood pale and resolute. Lord Alresford was pacing to and fro ; 
at times pausing to listen more attentively ; but not once did he 
interrupt her narrative. For many minutes after its conclusion, 
he remained silent. The stillness, at length, became intolerable 
to her excited feelings. 

“ Lord Alresford, speak to me. Eeproach me. Anything bet- 
ter than this silence. Are you not shocked — astonished ? ” 
exclaimed Lady Catherine, in a voice of passionate emotion ; and 
she advanced and touched his arm. 

“ Well may you thus be overpowered, Lady Catherine, at the 
recital you have volunteered,” said the Earl, as he gazed on her 
pale cheek and quivering lip. “ You, Catherine — you who were, 
after one other, my ideal of all that is perfect in woman, have you 
been thus betrayed by passion to disregard your honor, to disgrace 
your noble name, to be persuaded by the artful devices of a design- 
ing villain to deceive your friends, and all who have your interest 
at heart ? Not content with thus erring, you have, moreover, 
accepted during the past eight months the degrading position of 
this person’s unacknowledged wife ? Catherine, can you hear from 
my lips this statement of what you have done, without shrinking 
from yourself in horror and remorse ? ” 

Lady Catherine started to her feet ; her eyes flashed. 

“No, Lord Alresford, no! I have only done what my heart 
and conscience approve ; save in the single instance of concealing 
this one thing from you, who, by my father’s will and my own 
consent, are entitled to my confidence. ’T is the consciousness of 
thus having erred, which alone brings me before you overwhelmed 
with confusion. My love and faith are Frederic Eandolph’s. 
Till he chooses to explain all that appears mysterious in his con- 
duct, I am content to wait ; firmly convinced all will finally be 
well. Lord Alresford, my father sanctioned Mr. Eandolph’s suit ; 
my love has given already that faith which eventually he had the 
right to claim ; therefore not even from your lips, my lord, will I 
listen to words such as those you have just uttered.” 

“ And you suppose, Catherine, I shall be as regardless of my 
duty to you as you have been reckless towards yourself? ” asked 
the Earl, calmly and resolutely. 


358 


PIQUE. 


Her breath came quick and fast, and her lips trembled with 
passionate excitement. 

“You can do no more than myself, my lord. My duty is to 
await Mr. Randolph’s pleasure,” replied she, proudly. 

“ And mine, Catherine, is to save you ; to save you from the 
dreadful consequences of your rashness ; to save you from t%e art- 
ful snares of a man who, by involving your youth and inexperience 
in the terrors of a clandestine intrigue, has shown himself alike 
unprincipled and unworthy. With feelings of the deepest and 
most heartfelt thankfulness, learn, Lady Catherine, that your so- 
c ailed marriage at Narbonne is illegal. You were not of age until 
three or four months after it was contracted, therefore, without my 
formal consent as your guardian, you could not bestow your hand. 
This very day — ay, this very hour, I will institute the necessary 
proceedings for its dissolution,” exclaimed Lord Alresford, moving 
towards the table upon which his writing-materials stood. 

For a moment she seemed stunned. 

“ But I do not desire it. I will never, never consent,” cried 
she, at length, vehemently. “ Consider what you are about to do, 
Lord Alresford ! ” 

“ Certainly, Lady Catherine,” replied the Earl, calmly, dipping 
the pen into the ink and holding it suspended over the paper 
before him. 

“ I protest against this most arbitrary act ; if, indeed, you pos- 
sess the power you assert. It is my own will to be Frederic 
Randolph’s wife, and I solemnly declare, never will I give myself 
to another. Do your worst, Lord Alresford ; it will only afford 
me opportunity again of testifying my love and confidence,” 
exclaimed she, approaching him and speaking in a voice tremulous 
with emotion and excitement. 

“After I have performed my duty, you must please yourself. 
Lady Catherine. If, after past experience and upon reflection, 
you deliberately place yourself again in this man’s power, on your 
own head, then, will rest the responsibility and consequence of 
your deed,” replied the Earl, immovably. 

She saw that violence and reproaches were lost upon him ; she 
had to contend with a spirit strong and unbending as her own. 
Silently she stood by his side, watching the rapid strokes of his 
pen over the paper. 

“ Lord Alresford, what is it you are about to do ? ” asked Lady 
Catherine at length, in low, murmuring accents, placing her hand 
on his, so as to arrest the movements of the pen. 

“ This letter is to Sir James Nugent, the eminent barrister, 


pique. 359 

requesting him to visit Amesbury without delay,” replied Lord 
Alresford, calmly, disengaging his hand. 

“ Before you execute this terrible threat, will you not hear me? 
Will you not listen to my entreaty, Lord Alresford ? Never did 
you before deny request of mine. Give me time. Mr. Randolph 
has solemnly pledged himself, in our next interview to reveal his 
history — to acknowledge our marriage. His birth, something 
tells me, is equal to mine ; but even should it not prove so, I will 
still be true to my vows. If, inexorable to my entreaty, you per- 
sist in this cruel exposure, which will avail nothing, I will not 
remain another day in England. Oh, that I had Mildred’s lips 
to persuade you to grant me delay ! ” 

Her words, delivered with passionate emotion, seemed to move 
Lord Alresford’s resolution. He laid down his pen. A gleam of 
joy sparkled in her beautiful eyes. 

“ Delay! Upon what plea do you ask it, Catherine? Where 
now is Mr. Randolph ? ” 

“ Here, in England. He has been at Wardour twice within the 
last five months ; and a few evenings ago, if I mistook not Mil- 
dred’s words, you were nearly accosting him yourself,” replied 
she, with a faint smile. ^ 

“You did not meet, then ! Am I to understand it was for the 
purpose of avowing all that Mr. Randolph came? ” 

“ For this sole purpose, I truly and firmly believe, my lord. 
The hermitage, near the cedar walk, was our place of rendezvous ; 
but that fearful storm ; do you remember it ? Alone, exposed to 
its fury, I shall never forget the horrors of that night — for Mr. 
Randolph came not; but the table was wet with blood. Oh, 
my lord, how can I account for this?” asked Lady Catherine, 
shudderingly. 

“ Strange ! Did Mr. Randolph ever previously allude to any 
dispute likely to lead to a hostile encounter ? ” asked Lord Alres- 
ford, thoughtfully, after an interval of a few seconds. 

“ He hinted at some painful mystery, which peremptorily 
forbade the immediate avowal of our marriage,” replied she. 

“ And you have not since met? ” 

“No. Now, will you grant my petition? will you give me a 
few weeks’ delay ? ” 

“ So far as this, Catherine, I will concede ; if within the next 
fourteen days Mr. Randolph comes to me, tenders an honorable 
explanation of the mystery which envelopes him, and establishes 
his pretensions to aspire to your hand, I can have nothing further 
to say in the matter ; excepting that I recognize the ceremony 


360 


PIQUE. 


which passed between you at Narbonne only in the light of a 
betrothment. If, on the contrary, I hear nothing from or of Mr. 
Randolph, I cannot suffer you to remain longer his dupe, with such 
fearful advantages on his side. I will give you back your liberty, 
and you must then use it as you please.” The Earl paused, and 
then presently added, “ Catherine, have you nothing in your pos- 
session which might help us to elucidate this mystery ? Nothing 
that can throw light on Mr. Randolph’s position in life, or on what 
he is now employed ? ” 

Slowly she drew the clasp from her bosom, and laid it before 
the Earl. Never before had any eyes but her own gazed upon it, 
since the evening Mr. Randolph hung it round her neck. 

“ This is all I have. See, it divides. It was the token by 
which Mr. Randolph claimed my solemn promise to meet him 
where he should indicate, on reception of one half of it. That I 
received under your lordship’s roof a few evenings ago.” 

Lord Alresford attentively examined the clasp. 

“ Here are Mr. Randolph’s initials plain enough ; but what does 
this C. on the centre medallion signify, Catherine ? Can he have 
another surname ? In what name did he marry you ? ” asked the 
Earl, still minutely examining the clasp. “ Surely, you know 
this, Catherine. Whatf signature did Mr. Randolph append to 
your marriage certificate ? ” added the Earl, quickly, as she 
replied not. 

“ I cannot tell. The whole appeared to me a dream.” 

“Do you know, then, the name of the clergyman who performed 
the ceremony, Lady Catherine ? ” demanded Lord Alresford, im- 
patiently. 

“ A Mr. Clare, a clergyman of the Church of England, and Mr. 
Randolph’s travelling companion and friend.” 

Lord Alresford did not speak again for some minutes. 

Lady Catherine, with folded arms, sat before him watching the 
expression of his countenance, and she thought it relaxed a little 
from its look of stem decision. He still held the jewel in his hand. 

“ The only clergyman of the name of Clare, whom I ever heard 
of, is a gentleman who formerly held the small living of New- 
combe, in this neighborhood. He relinquished it, some years ago, 
to accept the appointment of tutor to Lord Normanton,” observed 
the Earl, at length, deliberately. 

Lady Catherine started violently, and the blood suffused her 
face and neck. 

“ Did you never ask Mr. Randolph to explain the meaning of 
this letter C. ? ” 


pique. 361 

“ Never. Until lately, I always concluded it was the initial of 
£ny own name ” 

She paused suddenly. 

“And, lately, what have you concluded the letter signifies, 
Catherine ? ” asked Lord Alresfbrd, promptly, fixing a searching 
look on her face. 

“ Nothing, my lord,” resumed Lady Catherine, hastily. “ In 
the bewilderment of my mind, improbable visions have risen, to 

vanish almost as soon as formed, ” 

Have you remarked this before ? ” asked the Earl, suddenly 
interrupting her. 

And he pointed to a small crest, — a lion rampant holding a 
drawn sword in its mouth ; so very minutely and delicately en- 
graved on the reverse of the jewel, that when the clasp parted 
there appeared but a faint, shapeless scratch on either division. 

“ Yes, I observed it this morning ; but I know no one who bears 
a similar crest.” 

Again there was a long silence. 

“ Tell me truly, Catherine, are your suspicions excited more 
towards one person than another? And have you any reason for 
supposing Mr. Kandolph to be of higher rank than he acknowl- 
edges ? ” said Lord Alresford, emphatically. 

She hesitated. 

“ A wild conjecture to-day flitted across my mind, Lord Alres- 
ford ; but it is too improbable, too devoid of possibility, for me to 
hazard such an idea.” 

“ Nevertheless, let me hear it, Catherine.” 

“ I cannot,” hastily responded she. “Nay, I view it as a kind 
of presumption, to dare hope that my error could be rewarded by 
the prosperous result my dream adjudged.” 

“ I see, Catherine, our suspicions both centre at the same point 
— Witham. I will not now discuss my reasons; suffice it — I 
shall go thither immediately.” 

In a moment Lady Catherine became pale as alabaster. 

“ It is impossible l If it should not be so, my lord ? ” faltered 
she. 

“ Then the visit I owe my neighbor, Lord Normanton, will be 
paid; that is all. Catherine, compose yourself. As you say, I 
see very little probability that my mission will prove a successful 
one ; nevertheless, my duty requires that nothing should be omitted 
likely to unravel the mystery. I have not much hope, inasmuch 
that such reckless imprudence as yours has been, is seldom re- 
warded by so happy an issue. You will entrust this to me ? ” 
continued Lord Alresford, taking the clasp from the table. 


362 


PIQUE. 


“Do not now, I entreat, Lord Alresford, urge this affair. I 
have given Mr. Bandolph my sacred word that our secret shall 
remain undivulged. Grant me still the delay of a few days,” 
exclaimed Lady Catherine, imploringly. 

“ Not a day, Catherine. Beeall your firmness, — your courage. 
You have placed this affair in my hands, and I will pursue it. 
Let me now lead you to your carriage ; or will you remain with 
Lady Alresford, until I return ? ” 

“ No ; let me go home,” replied she, faintly. 

“You will see me this evening, then, at Wardour; and dear 
Catherine, as this is the first hot contention we have had, so may 
it also he the last between us.” 

“ If this mission to Witham fails, will you have patience ? will 
you deal more leniently than you threaten, my lord?” asked Lady 
Catherine, pausing at the door, and raising her eyes, with a sup- 
plicatory expression, to his. 

“No, Lady Catherine. I will not recede one iota from the 
purpose you have just now heard me declare.” 

Lady Catherine hurriedly withdrew her hand, which the Earl 
had taken. She fancied a shade of reproach flitted across hia 
brow. She instantly replaced her hand in his. 

“No, we will not part thus, Lord Alresford. I know you to be 
the kindest, truest, best friend I have. Forgive me any harsh 
word which, in my distress, may have passed my lips. What you 
are about to do I know is right ; but there are remedies that sicken 
the heart to dwell upon. Such a one is mine. Can you pardon 
me ? ” And Lady Catherine raised her noble head, and riveted 
her clear, truthful eyes upon him. 

“ I knew, in a calmer moment, your justice would render me 
»ach a tribute, Catherine. I thank you,” replied Lord Alresford, 
with emotion. 

“ Do not either let one imprudence lower me forever in your 
esteem, or quench the friendship of years, Lord Alresford,” rejoined 
she, anxiously. 

“On one condition only, Catherine ; that you are imprudent no 
more, and will place yourself under my guidance throughout this 
affair,” replied the Earl, in a lighter tone, as he led her to her 
carriage. 

“ I shall expect you at Wardour this evening, without fail ; 
whether your tidings be good or bad,” said Lady Catherine, with 
rising color, as she took her seat. 

“ Without fail. I dare not bid you hope, Catherine.” 

She smiled sadly, and shook her head. 


PIQUE. 


363 


“ And Helen Campbell ? ” 

4 ‘ Miss Campbell shall hear from me of her complete exculpation 
to-night. I know this, at any rate, will afford you consolation, 
Catherine. Farewell.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

» 

As soon as Lady Catherine had taken her departure, Lord 
Alresford gave orders for his carriage to be brought round imme- 
diately. He then returned to the library, and wrote a few lines to 
Mildred. As he sealed the note, the clock struck one, and ten 
minutes afterwards the Earl was on his road to Witham ; which 
he reached after a rapid drive of two hours. Miss Conway and 
her brother were out walking ; but Lord Alresford was informed 
that they were not likely to have strolled far from the house, as 
for several days past Lord Normanton had not been well enough 
to venture out of doors. 

The room into which the Earl was ushered evidently was that 
where the brother and sister had spent the morning together. A 
bright fire blazed in the grate, and the faint autumnal afternoon 
sun poured its beams through the window, near which stood Miss 
Conway’s work-table. At some little distance from the fire was a 
couch, arranged as for an invalid, with piles of cushions ; books 
were scattered around in every direction, and on a small stand 
near the sofa lay an open portfolio of sketches. The draught of 
air between the open window and the door, as the Earl entered, 
wafted several of these drawings from the stand to the floor. This 
attracted Lord Alresford’s attention, and after a time he approached 
the portfolio, and leisurely turned over its contents; consisting 
chiefly of sketches of Italian scenery, drawn with masterly skill 
and effect, and which recalled to the Earl’s memory many an old 
familiar landscape. Next came spirited groups of Sicilians and 
Neapolitans in their picturesque costumes ; and then the sketcher 
appeared to have aimed at a higher style of art, and endeavored 
to portray the noble features and forms of Italian beauty. One 
lovely face and figure, which seemed strangely familiar to Lord 
Alresford, was delineated repeatedly, in every diversity of attitude 
and fanciful variety of costume ; sometimes under the turbaned 
magnificence of a Turkish sultana ; now in the classic attire of a 
Greek peasant girl ; then in the simple garb of an English maiden; 


364 


PIQUE. 


in short, the artist appeared to have been fairly bewitched with 
the charms of the beautiful original. Lord Alresford still held in 
his hand the most carefully finished of these portraits, when Miss 
Conway returned from her walk. She entered the room alone, 
and, though slightly surprised at seeing the Earl, gave him the 
most cordial welcome. 

“ Normanton will be here in a few minutes. I think you do not 
know my brother, Lord Alresford ? ” 

“ By comparing notes, I believe we may find it possible that 
we met at Palermo a year ago/’ replied the Earl. “ Are these 
masterly sketches your brother’s, Miss Conway ? ” 

“ Yes ; are they not beautiful ? But do you not see an extraor- 
dinary likeness to Catherine in this Greek peasant girl, whom 
Normanton has amused himself in drawing in every variety of 
attitude and costume ? Catherine really might have sat to him 
for her portrait.” 

“It is so very good a likeness that I thought, and still think, 
it can only be intended for Lady Catherine,” replied the Earl. 

Maude looked puzzled. 

4 * But Normanton and Catherine have never met lately ; and it 
is quite impossible he can have sketched this portrait from childish 
recollections.” 

“Quite so. But, Miss Conway, are you positive they have 
never met ? If I am right in conjecturing that I once saw Lord 
Normanton at Palermo, Catherine must have done so likewise, as 
she was then visiting her aunt, Madame de Pezarro,” rejoined the 
Earl, with a smile. “ Do you know under what circumstances 
your brother drew this very striking likeness of Lady Catherine ? ” 

Maude gazed very earnestly in the Earl’s face. Lord Alresford 
repeated his question. 

“ I remember asking Normanton who the original of this por- 
trait was, and I think he replied that she was a lady he met with 
somewhere hi France. She must have been very captivating to 
have attracted him so greatly. But what an odd idea it is of 
yours, Lord Alresford, to think Normanton saw Catherine, his old 
playfellow, without making himself known ; or that she could 
have heard his name mentioned in her presence without recalling 
a multitude of reminiscences, which must have led to much friendly 
intercourse. Indeed, Catherine told me a few weeks ago, that she 
never met my brother,” rejoined Maude, smiling at the warmth 
with which she found herself refuting the Earl’s doubts. 

“ If it be as I suspect, neither Lady Catherine nor myself knew 
your brother as Lord Normanton, Miss Conway.” 


PIQUE. 


365 


Maude raised her clear eyes with a most bewildered expression. 

“What can you mean, Lord Alresford ? Why should my brother 
resort to disguise of any kind, especially towards Catherine and 
yourself? Pray, let me look again at the sketch.” 

Lord Alresford still held the portrait in his hand. Miss Conway 
came and stood by him at the window. 

“What do these mean, Miss Conway?” asked Lord Alresford, 
pointing to a few hastily scratched, half-effaced letters in one corner 
of the drawing. 

Maude again raised her eyes ; involuntarily a merry smile played 
round her lips. 

“ I rather suspect Normanton intends those pencil strokes for 
the initial letters of his Christian and surname — Frederic Ran- 
dolph Conway. But what extraordinary idea have you got in your 
head, Lord Alresford?” replied she, as demurely as she could. 
“ I really wish Normanton would come and answer for himself.” 

“ I have yet to ask after your brother’s health, Miss Conway?” 
said the Earl, highly amused at Maude’s puzzled looks. 

“ Oh, he is much better again to-day. About three or four days 
ago, he had a most serious relapse. The wound opened again, and 
oaused him for some time intense suffering. Normanton’ s chief 
ailment now, is nervous depression of spirits,” replied Maude, 
gravely. 

“Can you account at all, Miss Conway, for your brother’s 
relapse ? ” asked Lord Alresford. 

“ Not at all. The evening before, dear Normanton seemed more 
than usually well, and even talked of paying Sir Gerard Baynton 
an early visit. • You may imagine my dismay and distress when, 
early the following morning, my maid roused me with the painful 
intelligence. Restlessness and thirst for action, I suppose invari- 
ably accompany convalescence, after an illness such as Norman- 
ton’ s ; else I should say there is something very peculiar in his 
fitful longings for change.” 

“ Dojou think the fair original of this portrait has anything to 
do with your brother’s desire for renewed energy and health ? ” 
asked the Earl, smiling. 

Maude looked astonished at the question. 

“ Normanton does not contemplate going abroad again at pres- 
ent, I believe ! ” replied she, seriously. 

“ Indeed ! As an instance, Miss Conway, of the varied impulses 
by which different people are swayed, Catherine only this morning 
actually threatened to break up her establishment, and depart 
forthwith to the Continent. 

31 * 


366 


PIQUE. 


“ Catherine ! ” and Miss Conway stuck her needle in the delicate 
piece of embroidery in her hand, laid it down on the work-table, 
and gazed at her companion in the utmost amazement. 

“Yes. You, Miss Conway, her most intimate friend, must 
often have remarked with pain the settled melancholy which 
weighs on Lady Catherine’s spirits; latterly, all her vivacity 
appears subdued. Have you never observed this? ” 

“ Often, Lord Alresford ; but I always ascribed it to — to, — 99 
and she paused. 

“ To what, Miss Conway ? ” 

“ To sorrow and responsibilities prematurely fallen upon her, 
Lord Alresford ; which, acting on a mind more than usually sen. 
sitive, have produced such a degree of nervous depression as time 
alone can heal.” 

“ There is something more than this. Lady Catherine has too 
strong a mind, and too keen a sense of her duties, to indulge in 
vague reveries of past afflictions.” 

“ Poor Catherine ! But what has happened, Lord Alresford, 
since I have been from home ? Surely her intention of quitting 
England is not seriously taken ? ” asked Maude, with undisguised 
anxiety. 

“ She will not leave home, if I have any influence over her, 
Miss Conway. But I believe her decision will greatly depend on 
the result of my visit here to-day.” 

“ Lord Alresford, what can you mean? Have you any message 
from dear Catherine for nie ? Pray, tell me really if your visit 
here has any especial object, as your manner would imply,” said 
Miss Conway, earnestly. 

“ I shall from henceforth attribute some mysterious influence to 
the sunny clime of Italy, as both Catherine and your brother 
return home suffering from extraordinary depression of spirits,” 
replied the Earl, evading her query. “ Did Lord Normanton 
travel with any friend in Italy, Miss Conway ? ” 

“ His old tutor, Mr. Clare, was, I believe, his companion the 
greater part of the period he spent abroad. I cannot imagine 
what can have aroused this suspicion of yours, Lord Alresford ; 
yet ’t is very like one of dear Normanton’ s vagaries to amuse him- 
self with concealing his true name and rank, to test what kind of 
reception people would give him! ” exclaimed Maude, musingly. 

“Lord Normanton will be happy to see your lordship in the 
library,” said a servant, at the moment entering the room. 

As soon as the door closed again, Maude cast a sharp, quick 
glance on the Earl. Her color came and flitted away quickly. 


PIQUE. 


367 


4t Lord Alresford, it is vain to conceal it — you are here on some 
extraordinary errand. Your whole conversation with me has been 
an enigma,” said she, rapidly. “ Satisfy, I beseech you, my anx- 
iety on one point before you go ; what name do you suppose my 
brother took abroad ? ” 

“ That of Eandolph. But from Lord Normanton I trust to hear 
much more of this gentleman ” 

“Could it be possible that ” Maude paused, the color 

rushed to her cheek. 

Lord Alresford smiled, and left the room. 

For some minutes Miss Conway stood motionless where the Earl 
left her. In utter bewilderment, her mind resolved first one and 
then another of the strange doubts raised by her conversation with 
him, and compared them with what she had herself observed in 
Lady Catherine’s conduct. The whole, when united by her active 
imagination, afforded proof so evident of her secret hope, that 
involuntarily conviction flashed home. She clasped her hands, and 
wept and laughed by turns, in the very fulness of her heart’s joy. 
What she had so ardently desired was now unexpectedly accom- 
plished; and, forgetful of her own grief, Maude’s imagination for 
a while revelled in picturing the future happiness of her loved 
brother and her friend. That Lord Normanton and Lady Cathe- 
rine had met before, and that under his assumed name her brother 
had succeeded in gaining her friend’s affection, and, perhaps the 
promise of her hand, Maude felt not the smallest doubt ; yet that 
some mystery clouded this easy solution was no less evident. What 
did the Earl’s visit portend? and why, on Lord Normanton’s arri- 
val in England, had he not at once claimed Lady Catherine’s 
hand ? Tears of affection and sorrow then poured down Maude’s 
cheeks when she thought on all her brother had lately risked for 
her sake ; of the present happiness he had disregarded, to espouse 
and avenge her cause ; and she shuddered at the amount of misery 
Colonel Sutherland’s betrayal might have entailed. 

After wandering restlessly, for some time, up and down the 
room, Maude at length sank into a chair, and sat, with the impa- 
tience of a child, eagerly watching the hands of the clock. Then 
she arose, and opening the door, listened for a second or two on 
the stairs. All, however* was tranquil ; the Earl and her brother 
were still closeted. Another brief space, and the library door 
opened. Maude’s heart palpitated as she listened to the echo of a 
swift footstep on the staircase. She arose, Lord Normanton entered, 
and soon she threw herself into her brother’s arms ; for a glance 
told her his errand was a joyful one. 


368 


PIQUE. 


“Why, Maude, you silly child, why do you weep? ” said Lord 
Normanton, kissing her cheek. 

“ For joy. Is it, then, true that you and Catherine have met, 
and that you love? Dear, dear Normanton, what happiness ! ” 

“ Maude, Catherine is mine ! I have won her without rank, title, 
— without one apparent allurement ! She is mine, — faithfully 
mine ! ” exclaimed he, exultingly. 

“ But I do not understand. Are you actually affianced? Tell 
me all quickly, dear Normanton,” rejoined Maude, raising her 
head. 

“Affianced! Maude what will you say when you learn that 
Catherine is already my wife ? ” 

“ Impossible ! Normanton, you can but jest,” replied Miss 
Conway, rapidly ; yet there was a something in her brother’s ear- 
nest tone and manner which made her heart palpitate with expec- 
tation and surprise. 

“ Maude, Catherine loved me so well, that for my sake she 
renounced all. Judging me by the truthful integrity of her own 
pure spirit, she believed my word when I told her that no degrada- 
tion lurked under my refusal to reveal my position in life ; there- 
fore, yielding to my passionate entreaty, before she quitted France 
she became my wife. Would that I had worlds to lay at her feet 
in return for her noble devotion ! ” 

“ I do not yet comprehend. Tell me, in the first place, dear 
Normanton, why you travelled under an assumed name, and what 
induced you to conceal yourself from Catherine ? ” 

“You remember that lamentable affair of Robert Conway’s, 
Maude?” 

“ Perfectly. But what has that to do with your strange roam- 
ing in disguise on the continent ? ” asked Maude, thoughtfully. 

“ Much ; but hearken, Maude, for I may now reveal the only 
secret I have ever withholden from you my darling sister ; and that 
only because it was not mine to confide.” 

Lord Normanton then recounted facts relative to her cousin’s 
unprincipled career, which filled Maude with sorrow and indigna- 
tion. It appeared that Mr. Conway had been in the habit of forg- 
ing Lord Normanton’s signature to checks on his bankers for small 
sums, which for some time met with prompt payment ; as for long 
no suspicion of nefarious dealing was excited. Emboldened by 
continued impunity , Mr. Conway at length ventured on the desper- 
ate measure of drawing on his cousin’s credit to the amount of a 
thousand pounds, to liquidate his gambling debts. Startled at 
the sum, or perhaps detecting some trifling irregularity in the sig- 


PIQUE. 


369 


nature, tlie check was detained, and the principals of the hank 
wrote immediately to Lord Normanton, stating its date, and the 
cause of their suspicion, and asking for fuller confirmation. Un- 
fortunately for Mr. Conway, it was at once disavowed by Lord 
Normanton; who, notwithstanding his cousin’s former delinquen- 
cies, still retained too high an opinion of his honor and probity to 
suspect him of so heinous a crime. The consequence, however, of 
this unequivocal denial on Lord Normanton’s part was, that at once 
a warrant was procured for Mr. Conway’s arrest for forgery ; and, 
incensed beyond measure at the audacity as well as the amount, 
of the attempted fraud, added to the sums already embezzled, the 
bank flatly refused to hush up the affair; though Lord Norman- 
ton, grieved and concerned beyond expression, hastened up to town 
immediately on being made acquainted with the painful truth, in 
the hope of staying proceedings. Unluckily, his letter dishonor- 
ing the draft remained in the bankers’ hands, and this they firmly 
refused to relinquish ; and no intercession availed to induce them 
to compromise the affair or to alter their resolution respecting it. 

Proceedings were instantly commenced, and Mr. Conway’s con- 
viction seemed inevitable ; one chance, and but one chance, remained 
to save him from the consequences of his unprincipled deed. Lord 
Normanton’s presence and evidence in court were indispensable to 
swear to the forgery ; and failing this, it was hinted to him that prob- 
ably the case could not satisfactorily be proved against the prisoner. 
Without the loss of an hour, therefore, after a last and unsuccessful 
interview with the prosecutors, Lord Normanton determined at any 
cost to save his unhappy relative, and knowing that measures would 
be forthwith adopted to compel his attendance before the magis- 
trates on the following moyning, went on board a packet just about 
to sail for Ostend, and at once proceeded on a long-projected tour 
through Italy. In order to prevent any annoyance or useless 
efforts to enforce his return, Lord Normanton dropped his title, and 
assumed, instead, the surname of Randolph. Meanwhile, the let- 
ter in the* bankers’ hands, though it indirectly proved Mr. Con- 
way’s guilt, was not in itself considered sufficient evidence to con- 
vict him, and as the most important point — the proving of the 
forged signatures — was rendered impossible by Lord Normanton’s 
deliberate and unexpected step, and the clever mode in which he 
foiled all inquiries or pursuit, the prosecution failed ; therefore, 
after a wearisome series of remands extending over many months, 
Mr. Conway at last obtained his liberty. As long as he remained 
in custody, Lord Normanton had generously pledged his solemn 
word to continue abroad, on condition that he quitted England 


370 


PIQUE. 


immediately after his discharge, and thus placed himself 1 eyond 
the reach of further molestation. Nothing could be more agreea- 
ble to Mr. Conway, as may be supposed, on regaining his liberty, 
than the very literal performance of his promise ; but just as he 
was in the act of stepping on board the packet to convey him to 
that haven of the discarded, Bologne-sur-Mer, he found himself 
once more rudely seized by the shoulder, and most unceremoni- 
ously consigned again to prison for debt. Another appeal to his 
generous cousin afforded Mr. Conway the means at length of hap- 
pily reaching Paris; and Lord Normanton, as soon as he received 
the welcome tidings, immediately returned home ; urged, as we 
know, by the most potent of all motives. 

During the period of his exile, Lord Normanton most scrupu- 
lously adhered to the duty he had imposed on himself, in order to 
rescue his worthless kinsman from the penalties of his crime. His 
family remained in perfect ignorance of his incognito , and never 
knew the exact place in which he was sojourning ; all their letters 
to him being directed under cover to Mr. Clare, to the care of a 
banker in Naples, by whom they were forwarded to their destina- 
tion. Once abroad, the desire to meet and find himself again in 
the society of the Lady Catherine Neville, became Lord Norman- 
ton’ s predominant impulse. He followed her to Palermo, and soon 
all the sway her ardent imaginative temperament formerly exer- 
cised over him, was renewed with tenfold force, heightened by the 
spell wrought by her extreme beauty. The necessity of his dis- 
guise, before so irksome, now became absolutely welcome to Lord 
Normanton ; it permitted and fostered that latent sentiment of dis- 
trust of the purity of the motives of others, to which we before 
alluded as his most besetting sin. To win his old playfellow, the 
beautiful and idolized Lady Catherine — to carry her off from 
amidst the titled suitors who knelt for her smile, by the force of 
the passionate attachment with which he hoped to inspire her, 
became from thenceforth the pivot upon which all Lord Norman- 
ton’s thoughts and actions turned. The fervent homage of the 
handsome young Englishman soon attracted Lady Catherine’s 
attention ; perhaps, too, his voice and language touched thrillingly 
on a string which linked her still with the sympathies of olden 
days; for how prosperously Lord Normanton succeeded in his 
suit, beyound his most sanguine hopes, these pages have already 
unfolded to the reader. 

Kapidly, then, Lord Normanton continued his narrative, and 
related to his wondering sister every incident of his connection 
with Lord Willingham and his daughter ; dwelling with proud 


PIQUE. 


371 


elation on Lady Catherine’s implicit trust, and on to the crowning 
proof of her love at Narbonne. Maude listened with breathless 
attention ; her very being seemed absorbed in the words falling 
from her brother’s lips ; and, with alternate smiles and tears, she 
sat his eager auditress. 

“ Oh, Normanton! and, after all this, you risked your own life 
and Catherine’s happiness for me. What shall I say or do for 
you, who perilled so much for me? Dear Normanton, I shudder 
at the sorrow I might have occasioned! ” exclaimed she, in a voice 
faltering with emotion. 

“ Say not this, dear Maude, for your injuries are mine. Should 
I have been worthy of Catherine’s love, if I could have seen you, 
my darling sister, scorned and insulted by an unworthy profligate, 
and not espouse *your quarrel ? But if you love me, never revert 
again to this painful passage in our lives. Fortune, to-day, seems 
to gild the future with most glowing beams ; and even you, my 
own Maude, may yet find the clue to true happiness, instead of 
being mocked by its shadow, which would perpetually have haunted 
you as Colonel Sutherland’s wife.” 

Maude forced herself to smile, unwilling to quench the sanguine 
joy which filled her brother’s heart. 

“ Well* Normanton, yours is a most romantic history ; but still, 
I think that Catherine has great reason to complain. Oh, had 
you seen her misery while laboring under this suspense ! Why 
did you not fly to Wardour on your arrival in England ? ” 

“ I am ashamed to confess, Maude, that after all Catherine’s 
sacrifices, a doubt of her truth and faith assailed me. All your 
letters — my mother’s, and even your own, Maude, hinted at the 
favor with which Mr. Turville was greeted at Wardour. The 
suspicion rankled with bitter pain that perhaps even her noble 
spirit bowed before the world’s idols — money and distinction; 
and that she repented her love had been vowed to an obscure 
unknown. I arrived in England, apparently, only to witness the 
accomplishment of my direst suspicion. I beheld, — but never 
mind what that sight was which filled me, at the time, with 
despair ; suffice it, Maude, when at length disabused, I found 

myself inextricably involved in another affair ” 

“You mean with Colonel Sutherland’s challenge. Normanton, 
Catherine was nearer at hand than you dreamt of. She saw you 
depart from Moreton. She also witnessed our grief, little imagin- 
ing that, had she entered the room ten minutes earlier, anguish 
unutterable would likewise have been hers.” 

“ I saw her that same evening, Maude. All my resolution t* 


372 


PIQUE. 


spare her the knowledge of what was impending, nearly succumbed 
under her eloquent pleadings to share my destiny, whatever it 
might be. Oh, Maude, a life of the most devoted homage could 
feebly repay the debt I owe her ! ” 

“ And what, after you had so cruelly sealed her lips, drew from 
Catherine the avowal of her marriage, Normanton? ” 

“ Her keen sense of honor brought that admission to her guar- 
dian, which not even the sorest suspense could before extort. 
Catherine, you know, has lately been staying at Amesbury, and a 
friend of Lady Alresford’s, a Miss Campbell, has fallen under sus- 
picion of disloyal practices, in making assignations in the grounds 
at night ” 

“ But what could you, or Catherine, have possibly to do with 
this? Your assignations lately, dear Normanton, have not been 
of a very exciting description.” 

Lord Normanton smiled. 

“ Do you remember my sudden relapse, a few days ago, Maude? ” 

“ Surely, Normanton, you were not then imprudent enough to 
attempt to see Catherine? ” exclaimed Miss Conway, in extreme 
surprise. 

“Never offender pleaded guilty more unblushingly, Maude, 
than I do,” replied Lord Normanton. “But, come, Lord Alres- 
ford awaits us below. It would be neither courteous nor grateful 
to leave him longer to his own cogitations. I shall ever feel 
indebted for his forbearance and kindness, under circumstances 
anything but pleasing for a guardian to learn.” 

“And Catherine — when do you fly to implore her pardon? 
Ah, Normanton ! many a game have you played with her in days 
of yore; but none with so subtle and tortuous a plot.” 

“How can you ask such a question, Maude? I return with 
Lord Alresford to Wardour.” 

“ And what then ? Your marriage acknowledged, do you bring 
Catherine here at once ? ” 

“ She shall decide. Lord Alresford has made the most urgent 
representations, and insists that, though she is now in reality 
my wife, to the world’s eye she shall at present appear only my 
betrothed. As Catherine desires, so shall it be ! ” 

“ A surprising concession truly, on your part, Normanton, after 
all your misdemeanors,” replied Maude, laughing ; and rising, she 
linked her arm within her brother’s. “ I suppose you will make 
Moreton your home now. Mamma will be frantic with joy.” 

“ But, dear Maude, what will become of you if I leave Witham 
this afternoon ? ” said Lord Normanton, suddenly pausing. 


PIQUE. 


373 


“ Tell Catherine, my dear sister, that to-morrow I shall appear 
at her doors a suppliant for hospitality,” rejoined Maude, laugh* 
ing, as she sprang down stairs ; and in another minute, with her 
face glowing with smiles and animation, Miss Conway was receiving 
Lord Alresford’s congratulations. 

Meanwhile, at Wardour Court all was silence and gloom. Lady 
Catherine, on her return from Amesbury, did not weep ; but she 
was pale, so very pale, that when she entered the sitting-room Mrs. 
Otway started up in alarm. Lady Catherine’s first act was to 
throw aside her bonnet and shawl ; the next, gently to draw the 
knitting from Mrs. Otway’s hands, and bid her listen. Then, 
without preface, she calmly imparted the whole of her history. 
The old lady sat at first as if stunned under the communication. 
Her tongue appeared to cleave to the roof of her mouth, and when 
she tardily recovered its use, Lady Catherine was gone ; nor did 
Mrs. Otway see more of her for many hours, though she vainly 
sought admittance at her chamber-door. Incapable, then, of con- 
trolling her mental disquietude, Mrs. Otway returned to the sitting- 
room, and throwing herself on the sofa, wept, fretted, and fumed, 
tied and untied her cap-strings, and finally nearly destroyed her 
favorite knitting. In this state she remained until the clock struck 
six, when a peal of the door-bell threw her into a fresh state of 
violent trepidation ; and fluttering with nervousness, she was on 
the point of flying from the room in search of Lady Catherine, 
when her steps were arrested by Hudson. 

“ Lord Alresford, madam, begs to speak with you. His lordship 
awaits you in the drawing-room.” 

“With me, Hudson? Surely you are mistaken; the Earl 
wishes to see your mistress,” rejoined Mrs. Otway, anxiously. 

“No, madam ; Lord Alresford walked into the drawing-room, 
and desired me to give this message to you,” replied Hudson, 
decisively. 

“ Very well,” replied Mrs. Otway. Then she continued mut- 
tering to herself, — “I wonder what fresh catastrophe the Earl 
has to announce, which he is afraid to pour into that poor child’s 
ear ! I suppose he has failed in his mission. I knew he would ; 
the Conways have too much sense for such knight-errantry. But 
I will go and warn that darling child that Lord Alresford is here.” 

As Mrs. Otway was proceeding to put her design in execution, 
she met Lady Catherine on the staircase. 

“ Good gracious, Catherine ! you look like a corpse in its wind* 
ing- sheet,” groaned the old lady, in despair. “ Oh ! my dear, that 

you should ever have subjected yourself to this ” 

32 


374 


PIQUE. 


** Should Lord Alresford wish to see me, Mrs. Otway, I shall 
be in the little west parlor,” interrupted Lady Catherine, hastily . 
passing. 

“ Love is the bane of every girl’s existence, I am persuaded ! 
That Frederic Eandolph must have a heart of flint ! What can I 
say to Lord Alresford ? My only trust is in him to get us through 
this dreadful affair,” continued Mrs. Otway to herself, speaking in 
disjointed phrases; then pausing a moment at the door of the 
drawing-room, to settle her cap and smooth her point-lace apron, 
she entered. Mrs. Otway made a movement of surprise, when at 
the first glance she perceived that the Earl was not alone. Lord 
Normanton stood at the window, with his back to the door; the 
moment she closed it, however, he turned full round and confronted 
her. 

“Bless us and save us! Mr. Eandolph, can it be you?” 
exclaimed Mrs. Otway, retreating. 

“Yes, ’tis I, indeed, Mrs. Otway; always, it appears, destined 
. to steal upon you when least expected. But have you no welcome 
for your old friend?” asked Lord Normanton, laughing, and 
extending his hand. 

“ I don’t know, Mr. Eandolph ; but for the good company I see 
you in, I should say that I had no welcome to give to one who has 
so cruelly used and deceived the best and fairest creature that ever 
breathed,” said Mrs. Otway, indignantly, refusing his proffered 
hand. “ How you could have the heart to desert Catherine! to 
let tears be her portion, constant as her daily bread, when she 
condescended to forget everything for you — she who might, and 
would, but for you, have matched with the highest in the land ! 

I suppose, however, seeing you with Lord Alresford, you are come 
at length to render the Lady Catherine justice,” and the old lady’s 
cheeks flushed, for she was now roused up to the highest possible 
pitch of indignation. 

“I am here, Mrs. Otway, to make every atonement in my power. 

I deserve your anger, and feel as sensibly alive to my own demerits 
as you can be. I hope, however, when you know all the facts of 
the case, you will be more lenient in your judgment ; for I should 
be sorry, indeed, to forfeit your esteem.” 

“ Well, Mr. Eandolph, you always had a very particular way 
of your own in coming round people, and I must acknowledge, 
despite your past extraordinary conduct, I am heartily glad to see 
you. Are you satisfied, Lord Alresford, with the explanations 
Mr. Eandolph has volunteered ? ” 

“ I am perfectly satisfied, Mrs. Otway,” replied Lord Alresford, 


PIQUE. 


375 


infinitely amused. “ And now, what will you say, when you learn 
that this delinquent, whom you have so properly censured, is your 
old friend Normanton.” 

For a few moments the old lady seemed transfixed with aston- 
ishment ; the next, she put on her spectacles, and advanced close 
to Lord Normanton. 

“Are you, indeed, Frederic Conway? Let me look at you. 
Yes ; like as two daisies to your late father. Ah, I see now why 
a lingering preference made me hope that Catherine would choose 
you ; though, as a hoy, you were always the plague of my life. 
How blind I must have been ! Well, this is the happiest day of my 
life. I always knew that it would turn out so ! ” and good Mrs. 
Otway’s tears dropped fast and thick on Lord Normanton’s hand, 
which she held tightly grasped in her own. 

“ Dear Mrs. Otway, I see that you have not quite thrown away 
all affection for me. I may yet obtain your forgiveness,” said 
Lord Normanton, kissing her hand. 

“ What a joyful day for Catherine ! ” 

“Yes. Where is she, Mrs. Otway? Catherine, — Lady Nor- 
manton ?” 

“ In the small west room. But had I not better break it to her ? ” 

“No, Mrs. Otway ; I will myself tell her of my happiness. Lord 
Alresford, I shall see you at Amesbury to-morrow,” said Lord 
Normanton, as he hastily quitted the room. 

“ Well, of all wonderful things, Lord Alresford, this is the 
most wonderful ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Otway, after a silence of a few 
minutes, wiping her eyes. 

“ Yes; it is, indeed, seldom an imprudent step like Catherine’s 
has so fortunate an ending. 

“ Mr. Bandolph, — I mean, Lord Normanton, has such uncom- 
monly winning manners, that the poor child was lured into it. 
Why he tantalized her so by this suspense surpasses my imagina- 
tion. I dare say I shall hear all about it to-night. We are deeply 
indebted to you, I am sure, Lord Alresford.” 

“ Not in the least. Had Catherine before confided in me, much 
Buffering would have been spared her ; but concealment is one of 
the foibles of your sex. I must now bid you farewell, Mrs. Otway, 
for I have another visit to pay before I return home ; and I dare 
say you will not be sorry either for a little retirement to compose 
your thoughts. Tell Catherine, I participate most heartily , and 
truly m her happiness,” said the Earl, as he quitted the room; 
for Mrs. Otway was still too much overcome to be capable of any 
exertion, save that of wiping her eyes. 


376 


PIQUE. 


“I will not fail, you may be sure, Lord Alresford. I think 1 
shall just put on my bonnet and take an hour’s walk on the ter- 
race,” murmured Mrs. Otway to herself, perfectly oblivious that 
darkness was fast setting in. 

Lord Alresford’s next destination was to the Chauntry ; a man- 
sion, fortunately, only two or three miles distant, and on his road 
home. 

Dinner was over when the Earl arrived, and Sir Gerard and his 
mother were together in the drawing-room. Lady Emily was sit- 
ting by the fire with her work-table and lamp, busily employed, 
while her son lounged negligently opposite to her on the sofa. He 
started up hurriedly when Lord Alresford was announced, while 
Lady Emily laid down her work, and looked up with eager 
interest. 

“Alresford ! What in the world brings you here at this hour?” 
exclaimed Sir Gerard, eagerly. 

“ To tell you news, Baynton, which, from certain peculiarities I 
detected in your manner this morning, I presume you will pro- 
nounce the happiest that could greet you,” replied the Earl. 
“ Lady Emily, I rejoice to inform you that not the slightest stigma 
rests on Miss Campbell’s character. She is completely exonerated; 
and her conduct, instead of censure, merits our highest admiration 
and applause. It has been noble, upright, and honorable.” 

“ This is, indeed, most joyous news, Lord Alresford. Helen’s 
character appeared so frank and clear, that it was indeed grievous 
to think her guilty of deceit ; yet the evidence seemed unanswer- 
able. If it was not Miss Campbell who quitted her room, who 
could it have been?” asked Lady Emily, speaking at first in tones 
of great delight as she glanced at her son ; yet, ere she concluded, 
her voice subdued itself into doubtful accents, so apprehensive was 
she of raising fallacious hope in his bosom. 

“ There never lurked the slightest doubt in my mind, my deaf 
mother, that Miss Campbell’s innocence would be perfectly vindi- 
cated ; therefore, I am quite ready to rest contented with Aires* 
ford’s assurance to that effect, without asking further explanations. 
I shall go to Greysdon to-morrow, and carry Helen the happy 
tidings myself,” said Sir Gerard, hastily, anxious to spare his 
friend the pain of entering upon the subject ; for a suspicion 
haunted him that Lady Alresford was in some way connected with 
the exploit for which her friend had suffered the penalty. 

Lady Emily, however, was less sparing ; her son’s future hap- 
piness was at stake, and she firmly repeated the question. 

“ My dear Lord Alresford, may I not know the truth ? Excuse 


pique. 377 

a mother’s anxiety. What was Miss Campbell’s errand in th« 
park at so late an hour ? ” 

“ She never left her room. It was Lady Catherine who availed 
herself of Miss Campbell’s apartment, as affording a readier exit 
from the house, as well as of her bonnet and shawl ” 

“ Lady Catherine !” exclaimed both Sir Gerard and his mother, 
in the same breath. 

. “ Lady Catherine came forward most nobly in Miss Campbell’s 
vindication ; and I am authorized to clear the latter from every 
suspicion, and to reveal so much of Lady Catherine’s history as 
may be requisite for that purpose. It appears that she and Lord 
Normanton met abroad, while the latter travelled under an assumed 
name ; they became mutually attached ; and it was to meet Lord 
Normanton that Lady Catherine left my house the other night. 
For reasons which recent events easily explain, Lord Normanton 
still preserved his incognito after his return to England ; and Lady 
Catherine knew not the real name and station of the man to whom 
she had promised her hand, until an hour ago. This morning she 
confided her history to me ; when, in the course of conversation, 
on comparing notes together, I became convinced that Mr. Ran- 
dolph might be found at Witham ; and most deeply rejoiced I am 
to find my supposition realized.” 

“Lord Normanton engaged to Lady Catherine! Who ever 
dreamed of such a thing ? It is, however, a most suitable match ; 
and one cannot imagine Lord Normanton’s object in carrying on 
his suit clandestinely,” exclaimed Lady Emily, in astonishment. 

“ Then this explains Normanton’s feverish ramblings during 
the early part of his illness. Often when I have been by his 
bedside the name of Catherine, and some unintelligible phrases in 
which the words Narbonne, — wife, — Mr. Clare, — perpetually 
recurred,” said Sir Gerard. “ Poor Lady Catherine ! this, too, 
accounts for her frequent melancholy; and Normanton! I cannot 
sufficiently admire his fortitude in avenging his sister’s injuries. 
I shall invite him to come and take up his abode here until after 
his marriage ; for the old dowager at More ton would worry him 
into a relapse again,” continued Sir Gerard, lightly. 

“ And what is to be done about Helen Campbell, Lord Alres- 
ford ? ” asked Lady Emily, as soon as she recovered a little from 
her surprise. 

“ Catherine promised to send her tidings of her exculpation 
immediately. Lady Alresford will doubtless do the same ; and I 
shall also write to Mr. Campbell, and request him to allow his 
daughter to return to Amesbury. Will you deliver my letter, 
32 * 


378 


PIQUE. 


Baynton, and second it with the whole strength of your eloquence ? 
Mildred shall send her maid to escort Miss Campbell back the day 
after to-morrow.” 

“ No, not the day after to-morrow, I hope ; nor yet the next 
day, nor the day after that,” replied Sir Gerard, laughing. “I 
am your ambassador ; therefore leave me, if you please, my lord, 
to decide on the time and the season most opportune to restore 
Helen to her friend’s society.” 

“ Agreed,” exclaimed the Earl, rising and taking leave of Lady 
Emily. “ My letter to Mr. Campbell shall be with you by eight 
to-morrow morning. Earewell, dear Baynton, may your suit pros- 
per ! She is worthy of you,” said Lord Alresford, as he wrung 
his friend’s hand, and stepped into his carriage. 


CHAPTER XXXY. 

Mildred, meanwhile, on quitting the library, took refuge, as 
usual, in her own apartment. Hastily closing the door, she threw 
herself on a chair, and gave free indulgence to the bitterness that 
filled her heart. The terrible fear which Lord Alresford’s silence 
confirmed (for she read not a syllable of the letter he put into her 
hands) hung the centre around which her thoughts gathered ; and 
she sat crushed, bereft of energy to combat the despair that weighed 
upon her spirit. He was going to leave her ! She remembered 
and shuddered at the firm inflexibility that distinguished the Earl’s 
character. Had she then trifled until all was lost ? and was she 
from thenceforth abandoned to her own cheerless self-upbraidings ? 
Yet, if so her husband had resolved, how could she frame words 
of reproach ? Judging her by her actions, Lord Alresford was 
conscious of no wrong, no cruelty. With patience unexampled, he 
had borne her caprices, submitted to her slights ; and now dare 
she even hope to bend his determination, or to imagine that his 
love for one so ungrateful was powerful enough to induce him at 
her prayer to forego it ? Tearless she sat, and from time to time 
her cold trembling hands swept across her brow. In her abstrac- 
tion, words half-formed ever and anon arose on her lip ; yet, to 
look at her desponding face and listless attitude, few would have 
divined the maddening self-reproach that wrung her heart ; so 
calm and passive in its outward demonstration is that hopeless 


PIQUE. 


379 


despair which deadens the soul ; and while dissipating, perhaps, 
an illusive future, leaves it to combat alone with its own present 
misery. 

Mildred sat thus, her head bowed in silent outward apathy, 
during the interview between the Earl and Lady Catherine. She 
started when she heard the carriage roll from the door, and hur- 
riedly arose ; perhaps, the Earl might seek her if only to confirm 
his design. She listened ; five — ten minutes elapsed. At length 
a light rap and lighter step ushered in Aglae, who silently laid a 
letter before her mistress, and quitted the room. In a second the 
envelope yielded to Mildred’s impetuous finger, and though she 
then read of the complete exculpation of her friend, and her hus- 
band’s earnest request that she should write and recall her, — read 
that Sir Gerard Baynton ere long would be rejoicing in the assur- 
ance of Helen’s innocence, no thrill of joy moved her heart. Upon 
the concluding portion of the letter alone she dwelt with unspeak- 
able delight. Slightly alluding to the agitation she had evinced 
when informed of his contemplated departure, the Earl wrote, — 
“ I do not see you, Mildred, before my visit to Witham, for I feel 
that the moment is at last arrived when subterfuge can avail you 
no longer. As your heart stands towards me, so must you let me 
read its language. At the moment of our separation, for an in- 
definite period, I see that you, even you, can no longer persist in 
the false and unnatural system you have hitherto chosen to adopt ; 
and that, at length, all the inconsistencies I have observed in your 
conduct must resolve themselves into one open, deliberate profes- 
sion of your sentiments and wishes ; upon which I have decided 
our future relations shall be regulated.” 

Tears rained from Mildred’s eyes on the paper, for conscience 
loudly testified that she had not dealt uprightly. She mused on 
the numberless advances towards a better understanding, the kind 
forethought and attention to her slightest wish evinced ever by 
Lord Alresford, and weighed them with the return she had made ; 
she thought of his forbearance under provocations intolerable to a 
man of his sensitive feeling, and sighed to see how greatly the 
balance was on his side. 

Spiritless and dejected, she wandered from room to room during 
that long afternoon ; and a memorable one it was in Mildred’s life. 
Forced to the humiliating task of self-examination, her spirit de- 
scried its weakness ; and, humbled and penitent, she resolved to 
cast from her that jealous susceptibility and repelling reserve 
which had been her bane. But the task was a more difficult one 
than she imagined ; as the hour of the Earl’s return approached, 


380 


PIQUE. 


more and more discomforted and restless did she become. At hei 
usual hour she dressed, and descended to the drawing-room. Seven 
o’clock passed, and her husband came not ; eight o’clock, and she 
still paced the room with that fevered impatience which converts 
minutes into hours. She threw herself on a couch, and vainly 
sought for that total abstraction from thought, — that vague pas- 
sionless reverie and prostration of the whole powers of mind, — 
which often succeeds severe mental anguish. Presently Mildred 
heard Lord Alresford’s voice in the hall ; she sprang to her feet, 
and stood with changing color, expecting his entrance. Again, for 
a few brief seconds, she listened to his voice ; then the library door 
closed, and all was silent. She drew a long deep breath, and sank 
back again on the sofa. Mechanically she took up her w,ork, then 
laid it aside again, and recommenced her restless wanderings. 
Her mind perpetually dwelt on the terrible fear that the Earl was 
about to leave her ; yet she still hoped that his purpose might not 
have been confirmed by active measures. Eagerly again Mildred 
listened for his approaching step, and in her torturing anxiety 
even accused the Earl of cruelty in disregarding her suspense. 
Vainly she tried to read ; book after book she rejected in disgust. 
Listlessly she then took up a newspaper from the table before her, 
and glanced down its closely printed columns. Suddenly her eye 
fell on the following words : — 

“We are enabled to announce on most positive authority, that 
the Earl of Alresford is about to leave England for the continent, 
on a special and important mission. His lordship, we understand, 
is expected at his mansion in Belgrave Square some day during 
the ensuing week, to make final arrangements for his immediate 
departure.” 

The paper dropped from Lady Alresford’s hands; she stood trans- 
fixed with sorrowful amazement. For one moment she breathed 
heavily, the next she caught up the paper, and without a moment’s 
hesitation, opened the door, and firmly walking across the hall, 
entered the library. 

Lord Alresford was standing with a letter in his hand near the 
fireplace. She precipitately advanced towards him. 

“ Lord Alresford, can this possibly be true ? ” burst in low 
quivering accents from Mildred’s lips, while her little hand trem- 
bled nervously, as she pointed to the paragraph. 

Lord Alresford fixed his eyes earnestly upon her. Her be- 
seeching glance, and the growing paleness of her cheek, seemed 
to implore a denial at his lips. • 

“ What you read, Mildred, is perfectly true, though somewhat 


PIQUE. 


381 


premature. The letter that I put in your hands this morning 
contained my definite acceptance of the mission,” said the Earl, 
slowly, intently regarding her. 

“And you are going? You abandon, you leave me, Lord 
Alresford, without warning, without preparation ! Is this well ? 
Is it right ? ” exclaimed she, vehemently. 

“ Ere I answer your question, tell me, Mildred, what difference 
my absence makes to you ? ” 

“Lord Alresford, will my most earnest, most urgent entreaty, 
induce you to forego your resolution ? "Will you bear with me a 
little longer, and revoke this decision?” and involuntarily Mil- 
dred clasped her hands, while tears of anguish streamed down 
her cheeks. 

“ No, Mildred, I will not. Your request can but proceed from 
an unworthy desire to witness another proof of your power over 
me. I will not afford you such heartless triumphs,” said the 
Earl, bitterly, turning away. 

She sank despairingly on the sofa. 

“ If you care for my happiness, my peace, stay, Lord Alresford, 
I conjure you ? ” murmured she. 

“ No, Mildred, your whole conduct proclaims that your peace 
will best be consulted by my absence. Eeturn, then, to that home 
from whence I took you, in the vain delusion of combining your 
happiness with my own. You have sufficiently shown me the 
impossibility of gaining your heart, — sufficiently indicated that 
neither time nor unwearied assiduity can make the least impres- 
sion upon it. You have persisted in a series of heartless incon- 
sistencies. There is, however, a limit to my forbearance. I have 
exhausted every means to win you, and now, Mildred, I tell you 
that I will no longer submit to live subservient to your caprices, 
or to lead the life of restraint with you which 1 have hitherto 
done. You have excluded me from your confidence; nay, to such 
a point has your indifference extended, that I, who long ago could 
have exacted all I wished from your obedience, have not even been 
admitted by you, my wife, to the privilege of intimate friendship. 
This, our mutual false position, I have irrevocably decided shall 
cease. Bitter as it will be to say farewell to you, Mildred, it ” 

“Oh, say it not, Lord Alresford! Have I not yet suffered 
enough ? Not yet sufficiently expiated the wrong that I once did 
you ? ” said she, in a voice faltering with tears. 

“ Mildred, what do these tears, this agitation mean? Why do 
you weep, who have so often repulsed and slighted my love ? ” 
said Lord Alresford, with emotion, as he bent over her, and gently 
took her trembling hand. 


382 


PIQUE. 


“ Your love ! Slighted your love ! Oh, what mean you, Lord 
Alresford ? ” and Mildred raised her pale, tearful face with a 
glance of incredulous eagerness. 

“ Yes, triumph as you will, Milcfered, in listening to the con- 
fession of a love which kindles no responsive sympathy in your 
heart, yet, on the point of leaving you, perhaps forever, you shall 
learn explicitly from my lips (should my whole past conduct have 
failed to enlighten you,) that love for you — deep, passionate love 
— alone induced me to forgive your infidelity, and to make you 
my wife. You offered to renew our engagement, — you told me 
your heart was free. Oh, Mildred, why did you deceive me on 
this point ? Why did you carry dissimulation so far that a life 
of misery has been prepared for us both, past retrieval ? Had 
you frankly owned your affection was another’s, I would have 
resigned you — even to that man most unworthy of you, Colonel 
Sutherland. Since our marriage, I have tried every device to 
win you. Sometimes I fancy that your heart relents, but the next 
moment invariably disabuses me. Loving you still, Mildred, with 
unabated passion, I can no longer feign indifference — no longer 
support the distance we have maintained towards each other 
during these past five months; no, Mildred, neither would I if 
I could ! We must, therefore, separate.” 

Mildred scarcely breathed ; hope, joy, and love alternated in 
the changeful expression of her tearful eyes. 

“ Oh, Lord Alresford, all your unexampled love and forbear- 
ance have not been lavished in vain. Why did you not tell me 
all this before ? Why did you suffer me so long to struggle with 
dark thoughts, which grew, strengthened, and filled me with 
despair ? Do you, indeed, still love me ? ” exclaimed she, rapidly 
and passionately. 

“ Mildred, the love I have borne you pervades every reminis- 
cence ; it is the one bright ray which sheds light and lustre on 
the past. I have loved you through your bitter infidelity and 
disdain, even after you cut me to the heart by the cruel coldness 
of your greeting on my return from Italy. Then you were dear, 
inexpressibly dear to me, Mildred ! You are still so now. But 
mark ! I will accept no forced duty at your hands. Show me, at 
least, that you appreciate my character better than to attempt, by 
a few kind words, to disarm the resolution that has’been forming 
for months. I have seen you smile on Colonel Sutherland — have 
borne your slights with composure and apparent insensibility — 
and be assured, Mildred, I can and will do so again.” 

With hasty, unsteady steps she advanced, her beautiful face 


PIQUE. 


383 


suffused with vivid blushes, and knelt by the side of the couch 
on which the Earl had momentarily thrown himself. 

“ How shall I atone for the misery my infatuation has occa- 
sioned ? But if this be any satisfaction, learn, Lord Alresford, 
that my most ardent love has long been yours, that you alone 
have ever reigned in my heart, which thrills with joy and thank- 
fulness to hear the words you have spoken. To be your loved 
wife is to attain the summit of worldly felicity and bliss ! If you 
would avenge the anguish I have inflicted, leave me, but for no 
other cause, upon no other plea ! ” and she passionately threw 
herself on his bosom. 

Lord Alresford hurriedly arose. The color mounted to his 
brow. 

“ Mildred, can it be that I have so entirely mistaken your 
sentiments? No! You do not love me as I would be loved. 
Beware, lest you deceive me a second time ! ” 

“ If I loved you not, should I thus implore your affection and 
forgiveness ? Oh, Lord Alresford, believe me, the feeling of your 
alienation and contempt has been a daily torment, far bitterer 
than I can express. Without your pardon, or without that affec- 
tion which I have so long trifled with, life would be joyless ! Will 
you refuse to believe what I say? Do you reject me, Lord Alres- 
ford, and will you not speak and tell me that I am forgiven ? ” 

Soon she felt herself folded in his arms. That silent, passion- 
ate embrace spoke to her more eloquently than words ; she knew 
that she was not yet banished from his heart. Tears of joy flowed 
down her cheeks. 

“ Oh, Mildred, tell me, then, for what purpose did you practise 
this cruel dissimulation, and persist in an estrangement which 
must have wrung your heart also ? Why did you decree that we 
should live strangers under the same roof? Wherefore did you 
shun me when I would have told you of my love, and flee from 
hearing those words which you have just now confessed thrill 
your heart with joy ? ” 

“ Because I doubted your love, and attributed your overtures 
to compassion. Yes, I, too, scorned that. Blinded by this 
delusion, I fled your society ; for, in your presence, I felt I must 
infallibly betray myself.” 

“But the cause, the source of your doubts, what was it? 
Mildred, will you not tell me ? ” 

She raised her cheek, wet with tears, from his bosom. Hur- 
riedly she passed her hand across her eyes. 

“ Yes, I will tell you all, all my folly and wickedness. It was 


384 


PIQUE. 


pique at Lady Catherine Neville’s influence over you which first 
drove me to retaliate your supposed indifference by encouraging 
the attentions of Colonel Sutherland. It was the hasty conclu- 
sion that but for me she would now have been your loved wife, 
which filled me with the bitter pangs of distrust and anguish.” 

“ Yet, Mildred, in our first private interview after my return 
from abroad, I told you that Lady Catherine was nothing to 
me. Then I obtained the first little glimmer of the feeling which 
rankled in your heart; and it was this knowledge alone that 
encouraged me to persevere in making you mine. I imagined I 
had then convinced you of the utter groundlessness of your sus- 
picion. To revert again to the subject after you became my wife, 
I felt would be an insult to you. You never had reason to think 
me guilty of the slightest breach of faith ; and since our marriage, 
surely the most acute suspicion could not detect aught wherewith 
to feed upon. Oh, Mildred, to this chimera we then owe the 
misery of the past six months ! ” said Lord Alresford, reproach- 
fully, though his arm still lingered fondly round her. 

“ I have erred, Lord Alresford, greatly, even I perceive beyond 
the limit of your forbearance ; but yet I must plead extenuation 
for my offences. I was goaded by your reproaches and frequent 
praise of Lady Catherine, and cut to the heart that she should 
be preferred in your esteem. When you returned, you met me 
with cold haughtiness ; you left me to my own heart’s bitterness, 
apparently indifferent as to what course I took. I feared your 
censure, for I knew I deserved it. Had but one word of love 
issued from your lips ! Even after our marriage was finally 
arranged, you were still silent. Oh, why was this ? ” 

“ When I knew, Mildred, that another had spoken to you of 
love, sanctioned by your encouragement of his advances, could I 
ask you, within the space of a few weeks afterwards, to make such 
a profession of attachment as would satisfy me ? Besides which, 
Mildred, you repulsed my efforts to win your confidence; you 
made no endeavor to conciliate me; you suffered me to depart 
from the Priory, — you, who had consented to become my wife 
seven days afterwards, — without one word of affection, without 
an effort to ascertain whether the galling remembrance of your 
infidelity was erased from my heart. Again, the evening before 
our marriage you prefered a solitary musing to my society. Can 
you wonder if I forbore, amid such countless marks of alienation, 
to speak to you on the subject of my love ? I will not conceal, 
also, Mildred, that I felt profoundly irritated at what I then con- 
ceived your dissembling ” 


PIQUE. 


385 


** Yet, could you have read my heart, Lord Alresford, — could 
you have seen the gratitude and joy with which it would have 
prized the smallest token of your regard, — even your affection 
might have been satisfied.” 

“ If you thus loved me, Mildred, what meant your tears, your 
indifference, on our wedding-day? Surely, if till then you 
feigned, was it not then time to undeceive me ? Why did you 
not at once repudiate my hasty letter ? ” 

“ My tears flowed when I thought of the dear friends from 
whom you had that morning taken me. My flight was an invol- 
untary impulse, which the next moment I returned to explain ; 
but you were gone. Again you left me to combat alone my way- 
ward folly. Your letter confirmed my suspicions of Lady Cath- 
erine’s influence ; — but enough of this. Have these humilitating 
avowals lowered me in your esteem, Lord Alresford? ” said she, 
beseechingly, raising her eyes timidly to his, surprised at the 
Earl’s silence. “ Am I forgiven ? ” 

“Forgiven! My own Mildred, never have you been absent 
from my heart. I have lived in anticipation of the hour when 
you should thus own yourself vanquished by my love, and its 
happiness exceeds all that I dared to imagine! ” said the Earl, 
as he again passionately folded her on his bosom, and kissed her 
blushing cheek and lips. 

She smiled. 

“You relent, and will refuse this mission abroad? You will 
remain with me in England ? ” whispered she, at length, raising 
her soft, beaming eyes to his face. 

Lord Alresford did not answer, though he still held her to his 
heart. 

“ Lord Alresford, speak ! Will you not now relinquish this 
project for my sake ? Have I no influence ? Is this the love 
you tell me of ? ” exclaimed she, rising in agitation. 

“ The affair has gone so far, dearest Mildred. Compose your- 
self, and reflect whether I am not bound in honor to abide by an 
engagement I first proposed ? ” 

She paused a few moments. Her looks of joyful gladness faded 
away. 

“ Better to have lost you before, when I thought you cold and 
indifferent, than now ! ” exclaimed she, in low, troubled accents. 
“ What shall I say? Alresford, dear Alresford, you must not, 
nay, shall not leave me ! Say you will give this project up, or I 
shall think you care not for me, and design it as a punishment 
for my past transgressions. You cannot refuse my first petition 1 
33 


386 


PIQUE. 


and I will reward you with double love, double demotion ! ” and 
Mildred twined her soft arms round the Earl’s neck, while warm 
tears fell from her cheek on his brow. 

Gently Lord Alresford drew her again to his side. Her head 
sank on his bosom. 

“ Who would imagine, my own Mildred, that it is your lips 
which utter such words of entreaty ? Do you remember the even- 
ing of my arrival at the Priory, dearest, and the terms in which 

you then alluded to our engagement — ‘ what cannot ’ you 

know the rest ? ” 

“ You overheard, then, my heartless words, and yet did not cast 
me from your heart ? Can you ever forgive the anguish I have 
inflicted? Oh, Lord Alresford, I knew not what I did!” said 
she, hiding her face. 

“ Think not of it. Forget it, as I have long done, dearest 
Mildred. Let us wander no more, even in thought, amidst shadows 
which have passed forever away.” 

“ Yet, unless you grant my petition, I shall think you still har- 
bor resentment,” said she, and now a beautiful smile played upon 
her lips, as she met his glance. “ Consider that so great an offence 
as mine demands a corresponding pardon. You smile. Say, 
Alresford, that my words have prevailed.” 

There was hope and trust in her clear earnest gaze, as she raised 
her eyes to his face. 

“ Mildred, you have conquered! My promise to Lord Wood- 
burn is as yet only conditional. My letter of final acceptance lies 
still on yonder table. On condition, therefore, of your very sincere 
repentance for the past, and entire undivided love for the future, I 
abandon it into your hands. Make what use of it you please.” 

An exclamation of joy escaped Mildred’s lips ; she bounded 
from his side, and holding the letter in triumph one minute, the 
next she dropped it into the middle of the blazing fire. 

“ I should advise your lordship to consult me on the composition 
of your next letter to the premier,” said she, turning towards the 
Earl with a bright smile, as she stood watching the progress of the 
flame while it consumed the paper. 

“You do not, I see, Mildred, belie the propensity of your sister- 
hood ; for show a woman her power, and she seldom fails to abuse 
it,” rejoined the Earl, laughing. “ But I have still a most 
surprising history to relate ; besides which, you have never asked 
me any question relative to the exculpation of your friend, Helen 
Campbell.” 

“ No ; I am now, however, veiy anxious to hear. Will it be 


PIQUE. 


387 


indiscreet to ask what share Lady Catherine Neville bore in it ? ” 
said Mildred, laughing, and returning to her seat by the Earl’s 
side. 

“ What at length satisfied you that Lady Catherine and myself 
were friends, and nothing more ? ” 

“ My own observation, added to what I gleaned of Lady Cathe- 
rine’s history from herself.” 

“I will now add one convincing proof more, Mildred. Lady 
Catherine had been married some four or five months before.my 
arrival at the Priory.” 

“ Married ! Lady Catherine married ; and to whom ? ” 

Shortly and concisely, Lord Alresford then related the various 
adventures of the day. Mildred listened in mute astonishment. 

“ Dear Helen ! her innocence has not been more triumphantly 
proved than I knew it would be. But you, my lord, what have 
you to say for your unbelief ? Shall I tell you?” added she, 
laughingly. “ You must be prepared to hear, with the best and 
most gracious deportment fou possess, that Sir G-erard, totally 
vanquished, lays his heart and hand at Helen’s feet ; you must no 
longer talk of an unequal match ; but immediately enter on terms 
of the strictest alliance and friendship with the future Lady 
Baynton.” 

“I am both eager and desirous to offer reparation to Miss 
Campbell for my involuntary error ; and have already acknowl- 
edged her merit in the quarter where you suppose I have more 
influence than I really possess. Her noble disregard of self, when 
her dearest hopes thereby seemed dashed to the ground, is worthy 
of the highest admiration ! I shall be proud of her friendship, if 
she will now bestow it upon me.” 

“ A most handsome acknowledgment. But confess that you 
have not always thought so highly of Helen’s merit.” 

“ I own it. Miss Campbell’s character had not then unfolded 
itself. She possessed unbounded influence over you; and your 
conduct, Mildred, presented such a tissue of inconsistencies, that 
I d oubted the counsel she poured into your ear. My impatience 
at what I conceived your studied neglect, especially after her 
arrival here, made me fear that her power was neither wisely nor 
conscientiously exercised ” 

“ And yet, had I heeded Helen’s words, I should have tendered 
submission to your lordship long months ago ; and even signed my 
capitulation at the Priory,” cried Mildred, playfully. 

“But could you then have done so from your heart, my own 
Mildred?” 


388 


PIQUE. 


“ Perhaps ; had your lordship condescended to ask me,” replied 
she, with playful earnestness. 

“ It appears that we have been like two people obstinately 
groping about in a dreary desert ; when, if we had but advanced 
a little, a beautiful garden would have unfolded to us its delights. 
Henceforth, dearest, let us have one will, even as we have owned 
one love ; and let us abjure the very semblance of pique, which 
has wrought us such misery. My own Mildred, to be beloved by 
you, brings, indeed, unspeakable bliss ! ” 

“ You overwhelm me. Dearest Alresford, I am yours, and 
yours only ! and, with all my faults, I will, nevertheless, prove to 
you that from henceforth I am your loving and devoted wife,” 
murmured Mildred. Her fair face kindled as she encountered the 
Earl’s glance ; and tears then involuntarily gathered in her down- 
cast eyes. There was a pause of a few minutes ; presently she 
exclaimed, — 

“ But what have you done about informing Helen of her acquit- 
tal ? I confess I had not heart to-day to write to her even these 
joyous tidings.” 

“ Baynton sets off for Greysdon to-morrow. I was writing my 
letter of apology and explanation to Mr. Campbell when you 
entered, for him to present ; as I promised to send it to the 
Chauntry early to-morrow morning. See, if what I have written 
already, in your opinion, does justice to your friend, Mildred ; and 
as I have little more now than my signature to add, I will finish 
it immediately,” said Lord Alresford, rising, and putting his letter 
into her hands. 

“ It says everything I could possibly desire. Dear Helen ! this, 
surely, will speedily bring her back to share my happiness,” 
exclaimed Lady Alresford, with a bright smile. “One question 
more, dear Alresford, without which our explanations seem imper- 
fect ; how did you succeed in regaining this ring from Colonel 
Sutherland ? ” 

“ Another time you shall hear, dearest ; we will not now revert 
to the subject. The joy this evening brings, my own Mildred, 
shall not be marred by aught of painful reminiscence.” 

She smiled, though tears glistened in her eyes, as she returned 
her husband’s embrace ; then, after a few minutes, she seated her- 
self by him at the table. With what different feelings did Mildred 
now watch the words flow from his pen ! How great the contrast 
between them, and the agonizing suspense of the morning ! Pres- 
ently, she drew a sheet of paper before her, and wrote a few hasty 
lines to Helen ; for Mildred felt that her joy and thankfulness 


PIQUE. 


389 


were imperfect, unless shared by that dear friend. She gave her 
note to Lord Alresford to enclose in his letter to Mr. Campbell ; 
then, this duty of reparation over, and Helen’s fair fame completely 
re-established, long did they discourse together. Again, every 
hour, every day of their long months of coldness and alienation 
passed in review; and, as Mildred with throbbing heart and 
flushing cheek felt herself over and over again folded to her hus- 
band’s heart, and heard his lips murmur in her ear those words of 
passionate love which she had ever despaired to hear, most cordially 
did she vow within herself to abjure that resentful sentiment of 
pique which had well-nigh totally destroyed her peace. 


CHAPTEE XXXVI. 

‘Well, Colin, what letters have you brought from the post, 
this morning ? ” asked Mrs. Campbell, walking to the garden-gate 
to meet her son, whose return from his daily pilgrimage to the 
village post-office she had been anxiously awaiting. 

“ Oh, mother, what with our correspondence, Martin’s shop bids 
fair to rival the General Post-office. Let me see ; first, here is the 
Times ; then, a letter from an old chum of mine, asking me to 
take a jaunt to the Highlands; next, a huge, awkward epistle for 
papa, — looks like a sick club circular ” 

“Nonsense, Colin! you know very well what I mean. Are 

there any letters from D shire? ” interrupted Mrs. Campbell, 

impatiently. • 

“My dear mother, do moderate your anxiety; I shall get 
through my list in time. Next, comes a dainty-looking epistle, 
having ‘ Wardour Court ’ in magnificent capitals on the seal, 
addressed to Mrs. Campbell ; and another of the same description, 
to Miss Campbell ” 

“ Well, Colin, give me these letters immediately, and carry the 
rest to your father,” and Mrs. Campbell took the two letters from 
her son’s hand, and eagerly opened the one directed to herself. 

“ Well, mother? ” said Colin, as he slowly walked by her side, 
and observed the well-pleased smile which gradually diffused itself 
over Mrs. Campbell’s face. 

* Well, Colin, this letter is from Lady Catherine Neville, and 
completely establishes our dear Helen’s innocence. I felt sure 
33 * 


390 


PIQUE. 


that Lady Catherine had something to do with it ; though, even 
now, I do not know in what way ; however, it does not signify 
much, as she says everything is explained. So you see, after your 
father and Helen’s ridiculous mystery, I was the only one to hit 
the right nail on the head. J ust as if I should quietly allow your 
sister to he sacrificed for a pack of nonsensical scruples ! ” 

“ Well, but mother, I don’t understand ; surely you did not 
write and accuse Lady Catherine on mere suspicion ? ” 

“ Well-grounded suspicion, as it has proved, Colin. Eeally 
your father and Helen, with their roundabout ways, remind me of 
the Gotham wiseacres, who wanted to catch the cuckoo by hedging 
it in,” cried Mrs. Campbell, laughing heartily, as, followed by 
Colin, she entered the room where Helen was engaged in giving a 
drawing-lesson to her sister Henrietta. 

“ See, Helen, here is a letter for you from Wardour Court,” 
said Mrs. Campbell, putting the letter into her daughter’s hand, 
then seating herself opposite to her to watch its effect. 

Helen dropped her pencil, and took the letter more eagerly than 
she had ever done one before in her life. As she read, her fair 
face glowed with satisfaction and thankfulness. 

“ There, you need not tell me. I know that you are exonerated, 
and I congratulate you from my heart ; but I can tell you, my 
dear, that you may thank me for it.” 

“Mamma, it is very true no particle of blame now attaches 
itself to my conduct ; but this letter is in answer to one I wrote to 
Lady Catherine.” 

“ Then you and your father had wit enough to do that, which 
is more than I gave you credit for. I suspected, Helen, that your 
father would encourage you in those silly notions with which your 
head was filled on your return ; therefore, I just took the liberty 
of writing to Lady Catherine (as I made out, my dear, that she 
was the last person in your company on that evening) and requested 
her merely to state to Lord Alresford what she knew of your con- 
duct, and she sends me in answer this pretty, civil letter,” said 
Mrs. Campbell, tossing the letter to Helen. 

“Oh, mamma, how could you do so? You might have made 
dreadful mischief by your interference. Dear Lady Catherine ! I 
would not have exposed her to this for worlds! ” exclaimed Helen, 
in dismay. 

“ Not at all, Helen. You and your father did not choose to 
take me into your confidence ; therefore, neither did I choose to 
submit to have my daughter sent home under the stigma of unmer- 
ited disgrace. Lady Catherine says that everything is explained, 


PIQUE. 


391 


eo I suppose I may venture now to ask who the heroine of the 
midnight ramble was. Stay, — Henrietta, my love, go to the 
fruit-chamber, and turn the pears, while I speak a few words with 
your sister ; you will find my keys on the dining-room table. 
Make haste, child!” cried Mrs. Campbell, as Henrietta slowly 
arose from her chair; her curiosity, perhaps, being as much 
excited as her mother’s,' to know the mystery which had kept the 
latter in perpetual worry ever since her sister’s return home. 
“ And now, my dear, what does her ladyship say for herself? 
How has she exculpated you ? ” 

“ By the most generous self-sacrifice. Oh, mamma! you cannot 
appreciate the extent of Lady Catherine’s noble unselfishness. You 
did not witness, as I did, her distress at the idea that her weakness 
should be exposed even to my humble scrutiny ; therefore, think 
what she must have felt to disclose all to Lord Alresford,” said 
Helen, with emotion. 

“ All what, Helen? You speak in enigmas.” 

“ That it was she who met her lover, or her betrothed, Lord 
Normanton, in the gardens at Amesbury.” 

“Ah, and so Lord Alresford mistook you for Lady Catherine, 
and wished to fix the blame on you, my poor Helen. May I look 
at her letter? There is something under the rose yet in this 
engagement, take my word for it,” said Mrs. Campbell, when she 
had finished its perusal. “ Lady Catherine and Lord Normanton 
are of equal rank, and both free agents ; therefore, why need they 
resort to clandestine interviews ; besides, you see, Lady Catherine 
says herself, that she has further explanations for your private ear 
when you meet. Helen, you do not look half so rejoiced as you 
ought at the news.” 

“Not rejoiced, mamma ! I cannot tell you how thankful I feel 
at my prompt acquittal. I am perhaps a little overpowered, that 
is all,” rejoined Helen, tears trembling in her eyes. 

“Yes; nothing can be more handsome than Lady Catherine’s 
acknowledgments; besides, she appears herself quite rejoiced at 
the unexpected turn affairs have taken. Depend upon it, that you 
have done her a service in compelling her to own her engagement ; 
though I must say, my dear, that she seems a pretty forward young 
lady, to make private assignations at night with gentlemen. She 
will find it necessary to get rid of some of her Italian habits ; they 
will never go down here in England. I wonder you have not heard 
from Mildred; or, at any rate, received an avowal from Lord 
Alresford that he has done you injustice.” 

• ' Perhaps I am a very little surprised also. The Earl may not 


392 


PIQUE. 


have received Lady Catherine’s acknowledgment in time te write 
by this morning’s post. I am certain, mamma, that Lord Alres- 
ford’s sense of right will not suffer him long to delay doing me 
justice, and to-morrow will bring his recantation.” 

“ People, my dear Helen, who find leisure to scrutinize so closely 
their neighbor’s failings, should also devise prompt means for mak- 
ing amends for their harsh misconstructions. These arrogant, high, 
and mighty people seldom like to own themselves in the wrong. 
His lordship, I fancy, however, must have been rather taken aback 
at the confession of his paragon, Lady Catherine.” 

“ Mamma, I beseech you do not talk of Lord Alresford in this 
manner. Believe me nothing could have surpassed his kindness 
and delicacy. I must have appeared guilty, indeed, when I owned 
myself able, and yet refused, to solve his doubts.” 

“ Well, my dear, I trust the Earl will have candor enough to 
set Sir Gerard Baynton right. I own I am both surprised and 
vexed at the latter’s silence. If I thought that Lord Alresford 

intended to shuffle off an explanation with him, I would ” 

and Mrs. Campbell suddenly paused, and attentively scrutinized 
the hem of her pocket handkerchief. 

“You would — what, mamma?” cried Helen, lifting up her 
eyes in alarm. 

“ Oh, nothing, my dear Helen. Good gracious ! what ails you, 
child?” 

“ Mamma, promise me most solemnly, that you will not, by 
word or deed, interfere between Sir Gerard and me. I assure 
you, such interference will be fatal to every hope you may have 
formed for me in that quarter,” said Helen, earnestly. 

“ Nonsense, my dear Helen, you need not fear my indiscretion.” 

“ Promise me, mamma.” 

“ Helen, you are too ridiculous. What can I do ? ” 

“I don’t know. You wrote to Lady Catherine without my 
knowledge. Will you promise, mamma ? ” 

“ Well, well, Helen, calm yourself. I promise, my dear. We 
shall be better able to tell how affairs stand when we have heard 
from Amesbury.” 

“ I know, of late, that it is the dearest wish of your heart to see 
me Sir Gerard Baynton’ s wife. Now, should, he offer to me, 
mamma, and I discover that his proposals are made in conse- 
quence of any hint or secret prompting of yours, I declare most 
solemnly, that I never will accept of his hand. Mamma, do not 
interfere ; believe me, I have sufficient interest in his heart, should 
he ever resolve to match so lowly,” said Helen, vehemently. 


PIQUE. 


393 


“I don’t know what you mean, Helen, by lowly ; but t is my 
opinion, if Sir Gerard offers to. you, that the advantage will be 
mutual. He will share with you bis riches and consequence ; but 
you will give him heart to enjoy them, which is more than a fine 
titled wife probably would do. Lady Emily is quite an exception 
to the general rule, so pray do not quote her. But, my dear 
Helen, what do you think Sir Gerard will do now ? It was a 
thousand pities that this stupid affair intervened, when everything 
was going on so smoothly ; and, now I understand all the ins-and- 
outs of the matter, I confess, my dear, I think that it was much 
ado about nothing, with a vengeance, to sweep from Amesbury in 
that tragic style, when your remedy in appealing to Lady Cathe- 
rine lay so near at hand.” 

“Iam sorry you think so, dear mamma. Papa approves entirely 
of my conduct,” replied Helen, calmly. 

Mrs. Campbell sat for some time immersed in profound thought. 
At length she said, — 

“ I should not wonder, Helen, if the Earl’s letter does not con- 
tain a pressing request for your return to Amesbury.” 

“Nor I, mamma.” 

“ Of course, my dear, you will go ; for Lord Alresford is sure 
to insist upon it as a point of honor ; besides, Mildred would be 
grieved, indeed, at your refusal. You think with me on this 
subject ; do you not, Helen ? ” 

“Yes, mamma. To make you easy at once — should Lord 
Alresford ask me, I own I do not see the wisdom of saying, no ; 
especially as it was my own act and deed to leave his house.” 

“ I think you are right, my dear child.” Then Mrs. Campbell 
added, after a pause, “I see your father is just returned from the 
Bectory, so go now, dear Helen, and rejoice his heart with the good 
news of your fair fame being re-established. In the mean time I 
shall walk down to the village and hurry on the washerwoman to 
send your muslin gowns this evening, in case of sudden emergency ; 
for you may be called upon to depart again at a moment’s warn- 
ing,” said Mrs. Campbell, as she left the room. 

Helen made no reply ; for her mother’s supposition appeared to 
her the most unlikely event possible ; but she quietly followed her 
out of the room and went to seek her father, to whom she longed 
to impart the happy tidings of her exculpation. In him Helen 
always found a ready sympathizer in her joys and sorrows ; for Mr. 
Campbell, without forgetting his relative position as a parent, pos- 
sessed the happy art of winning and retaining his child’s confi- 
dence. To his advice she resorted on every occasion, and it was 




394 


PIQUE. 


difficult to say upon which face beamed the brightest smile of affec- 
tion when- the study door gently opened, and Helen entered with 
Lady Catherine’s letter in her hand. Mr. Campbell, like his 
wife, expressed surprise that no letter from Lord Alregford 
announced his daughter’s vindication; yet he felt that this 
acknowledgment would not long tarry ; and both Helen and her 
father were too lejoiced at her release from a humiliating suspicion, 
to feel very aggrieved at the omission. 

Her colloquy over with Mr. Campbell, Helen returned to the 
drawing-room, and taking up her work, resumed her seat. Mrs. 
Campbell, as she announced her intention of doing, had walked 
into the village, taking Henrietta with her ; so Helen found her- 
self at liberty to pursue the thread of her meditations, without 
danger of those perpetual interruptions and commotions in the 
room, which her mother’s locomotive mania rendered of hourly 
occurrence. At times her needle busily sped, at others the work 
drooped on her knee, and she thought ; once again her young heart 
permitted itself to dwell on that short though brightest period of 
her life, since her acquaintance with Sir Gerard Baynton began ; 
and again her dream of love unconsciously revived in her reverie. 
She felt, also, unfeignedly thankful for her vindication ; for Helen 
possessed too sensitive and feeling a heart to treat with cool disre- 
gard the malice, and ill-natured gossip, of the neighborhood, as to 
the cause of her sudden return home. Lady Elvaston, and Mrs. 
Campbell especially, had both over and over again confirmed the 
general impression that her visit would probably extend over some 
months ; besides which, Sir Bichard Tennyson and his sister loudly 
expressed their astonishment, and hinted that neither Lady Alres- 
ford nor Miss Campbell contemplated so speedy a separation, when 
they took leave of them at Amesbury on the previous day. Pub- 
lic opinion, therefore, which seldom sides with the weak, settled 
that on some account Helen had incurred the Earl’s displeasure, 
and consequently met with an unceremonious dismissal from Ames- 
bury ; a version of the story received by most with the greater 
zest, as much jealousy had been formerly excited, amongst the 
younger ladies of the county, at Miss Campbell’s intimacy and 
influence at the Priory. 

Since her supposed disgrace, however, Helen had been honored 
by a much larger share of Clara Tennyson’s good-will than for- 
merly ; not, however, that Miss Tennyson espoused her cause from . 
a conviction that she had been hardly dealt with, for this Clara 
had no opportunity of deciding ; but because the rule of contrary 
was so strongly implanted in her bosom, that what others censured 




PIQUE. 


395 


she could not refrain from patronizing. Therefore, though she 
talked loudly, and publicly canvassed Helen’s assumed disgrace, 
punishment, and decreased influence with tady Alresford, jet 
Miss Tennyson almost daily visited her ; and even went the length 
of vowing that she would not be married at all, unless Helen 
Campbell might be allowed to officiate as her bridesmaid. 

Mrs. Wedderbourne, meanwhile, in her conduct towards the 
Campbells, proceeded with more characteristic worldliness. She 
felt that it was not quite safe to let Helen drop, until her noble 
friends declared their disgust by still more overt acts of indiffer- 
ence. Mrs. Wedderbourne, however, firmly resolved to follow the 
Earl’s example, whether he frowned or smiled ; especially as she 
had planned the scheme of a second grand entertainment, to which 
he was to be invited, on his first visit to the Priory ; and till she 
could satisfactorily ascertain his disposition towards Helen, she 
adopted an intermediate policy, and directed her niece Caroline to 
do the same. 

It was not long, however, before Helen’s sensitive spirit indig- 
nantly detected, that her popularity by the worldly few was made 
greatly to depend upon the fiat of her friends. Had she been a 
few years older, perhaps Helen might have borne these petty slights 
more philosophically ; for sooner or later in life, every individual 
is made to acknowledge with the royal psalmist of Israel, that 
only “ so long as thou doest well unto thyself, men will speak well 
of thee.” Helen still sat by the fire absorbed in these rumina- 
tions, when a ring at the hall-door startled her, and feeling too 
disinclined to entertain visitors in her mother’s absence, she laid 
down her work and swiftly passed into the adjoining room, intend- 
ing to seek refuge in her own chamber. After a brief interval, * 
she heard the sound of steps in the passage, and then the door of 
her father’s study opened and closed, and all was still ; so, con- 
cluding that the visit was to him from one of the neighboring 
clergy (for Mr. Campbell was deservedly popular), she quietly 
returned to the drawing-room, and resumed her occupation again. 

Presently Mr. Campbell just put his head into the room, and 
retreated again, leaving the door open. Helen looked up, and then 
rose with the intent of seeking her father, when her purpose was 
put to flight by the sudden entrance of Sir Gerard Baynton. For 
a minute, her senses almost refused credence to the reality of his 
presence, and she stood with palpitating heart and glowing cheek. 

“ Helen ! ” said Sir Gerard, hastily closing the door, and advanc* 
ing towards her he took her hand. 

*' Sir Gerard ! ” 


396 


PIQUE. 


“ Helen, I am here, hoping to he the first to announce the happy 
tidings of your vindication, by Lady Catherine’s avowal of her 
engagement to Lord Norman ton.” Sir G-erard paused ; he still 
retained her hand ; it shook in his grasp. “ Helen, dear Helen ! ” 
continued he, impetuously, “ I know not why I should address you 
in this strain of cool compliment. No ! I came not to announce 
your vindication alone ; for what is it to me, who never believed 
you guilty of the thing laid to your charge ? No ; I am here to 
throw myself at your feet — as I should equally have done had not 
a word passed Lady Catherine’s lips ; to tell you that I have long 
ardently loved you ; and to implore you to confirm those hopes, 
which your manner, especially on the last evening we spent together 
at Amesbury, raised almost into the transporting certainty that I am 
not indifferent to you, Helen ! I know you will not trifle with me ; 
can you — do you love me well enough to become my wife?’* 
asked Sir Gerard, in a voice of passionate emotion. 

Helen trembled violently, and covered her face with her hands. 
Sir Gerard saw that she wept. 

“ Helen, my own Helen ! Why do you not answer me ? Nay, 
I will be satisfied with nothing less than a direct avowal that my 
love — my devotion, are rewarded by your heart,” continued he. 
“ Will you be my wife — my idolized wife, Helen?” and Sir 
Gerard gently removed the little hands which concealed her face. 

A few softly murmured words fell from her lips. She was 
happy, inexpressibly happy. 

Sir Gerard took her in his arms, and folded her to his heart 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

“ May I venture to transgress, Catherine, and come in ? ” asked 
Mr. Turville, pausing on the threshold of the glass door opening 
on the terrace, one fine morning, about a week after the occurrence 
of the event that exercised so important an influence over the 
destiny of our heroines. 

Lady Catherine had not since seen her cousin. A vivid blush 
suffused her cheeks as she raised her eyes from her book. 

“ Oh yes, come in, Charles ; if only it be to make humble 
acknowledgment of my clemency in not returning a stern negative, 
as a punishment for your presuming to think it necessary to make 


pique. 397 

such a demand,” replied she, trying to laugh off her embarrass- 
ment. 

Mr. Turville entered the room and took a chair opposite to his 
cousin. He contemplated her silently and earnestly for some min- 
utes. The changeful, happy expression of Lady Catherine’s beau- 
tiful face appeared to strike him. Her full, dark eye had lost that 
painful, subdued look, which ever seemed to rebuke the smile on 
her lip, and her brow its air of melancholy pensiveness. She now 
met her cousin’s scrutinizing gaze unflinchingly ; and yet, too, her 
face expressed deep, affectionate sympathy. She thought that ho 
looked pale and abstracted ; and the desire to console, to reason 
him into greater confidence and content with himself and all the 
world, strongly possessed her. Lor some moments longer Mr. 
Turville watched the varying color on her cheek. 

“ I should not have presumed to visit you, Catherine, unless I 
had first obtained Lord Normanton’s permission. I have called 
upon him this morning,” said he at length, in short constrained 
tones. 

“ Then it is only towards me, Charles, that you harbor a spirit 
of unforgiving resentment ; as the bitterness of your tone implies?” 
said Lady Catherine, sorrowfully. 

“Unforgiving towards you! No, Catherine. You, who I, — 
but enough of this. Tell me, do you expect me to congratulate 
you ? ” 

“ Nay, do you not rejoice with me a little, Charles? Were you 
not sincere in all those protestations for my happiness, which made 
me hate myself for the pain I was inflicting upon one so kind and 
generous ? Is it my fault, Charles, that you persisted, spite of 
my vehement assurance, in cherishing a hope that I might one day 
return your love ? Oh, no, I told you, in language emphatic and 
clear, that it could never, never be ! ” replied Lady Catherine, 
hastily. 

“ And you, therefore, ask my sympathy, Catherine ? Mine ! 
You expect such total abnegation of self! Yet you have it; for I 
love you still too devotedly, too dearly, not to rejoice at your hap- 
piness, though it be reared on the wreck of my own. But Cathe- 
rine, the bitter pang is, that for this Mr. Randolph — or Lord 
Nonuanton, you totally sacrificed me. At a whim, the creation of 
his jealous fancy, you banished me from your presence, without a 
thought of the pain your sentence inflicted. No man had the right, 
in defiance of your will, to dictate such an action, therefore ” 

“ Stay, Charles, you refused to be convinced of the hopelessness 
of your attachment, therefore I had no other resource than to deny 
myself to you.” 

34 


398 


PIQUE. 


“ Do you assert that no influence was exercised over you by 
Lord Normanton, and that anxiety for my peace would alone have 
prompted this same course, had his lordship been totally out of 
the question ? ” demanded Mr. Turville, bitterly. 

“ Perhaps, Charles, not quite so stringent a one,” replied Lady 
Catherine, while a slight smile curled her lip. 

“No, Catherine, you cannot affirm it,” rejoined he. “You once 
promised to explain all this mystery ; now, therefore, tell me, why 
did Lord Normanton assume a disguise to win you ? ” 

“ Lord Normanton’ s disguise was prompted, in the first instance, 
by the noblest of self-sacrifices ; and afterwards, this imperative 
necessity availed him to assure himself that no external circum- 
stance influenced the gift I made him of my heart,” responded 
Lady Catherine, in a low tone. 

“ To my mind, a jealous susceptibility like this is near akin to 
hatred,” quickly replied Mr. Turville. “ But you have not yet 
stated, Catherine, the nature of Lord Normanton’s self-sacrifice,” 
continued he, after a pause. 

“ Lord Normanton, to save the life or liberty of a near relative 
who had deeply, ungratefully defrauded him, hesitated not to 
adopt the only painful resource left him to effect his generous 
purpose ; and, nobly throwing aside all the privileges of his sta- 
tion, lived in exile and obscurity, bound by a solemn vow not to 
divulge his true name and rank until Mr. Conway was safely 
beyond the consequences of his crime,” replied Lady Catherine. 

Mr. Turville did not speak for some moments. 

“ I remember perfectly well Mr. Conway’s arrest on the scan- 
dalous charge of forgery, and every one’s surprise at the affair 
being suddenly hushed up in the mysterious manner it was,” at 
length said he, slowly. “ Well, Catherine, I acknowledge this 
generous fortitude on Lord Normanton’s part was noble in the 
extreme ; nay, his chivalrous adherence to his word is a deed 
worthy of the highest admiration and applause. But six months 
have passed since Mr. Conway obtained his discharge ; for what 
purpose, then, has he since persisted in torturing you, and render- 
ing your life miserable by anxious misgiving ? ” 

“Can you not divine, Charles? For what reason did I most 
reluctantly decline to receive you here on our former intimate 
terms? ” 

Mr. Turville again made no reply, and for a considerable time 
sat silently opposite to his cousin, buried in deep thought. Lady 
Catherine leaned her elbow on the window-seat, and listlessly 
turned the leaves of the book on her knee. 


PIQUE. 


39S 


“Catherine,” exclaimed Mr. Turville, suddenly catching her 
hand, “you have not forbidden me to guess at the remainder of 
your secret ; for still I feel that you have not told me all. There 
is but one thing which can explain the extraordinary — arbitrary 
influence exercised over you by Mr. Randolph, — there is but one 
circumstance that could justify his demand and your obedience, — 
it is that this ring, to which I once before alluded, is not your 
mother’s, but was placed by Lord Normanton on your finger ere 
you quitted Italy. Is it so, Catherine ? ” 

She hastily withdrew her hand. The vivid color fluctuated in 
her cheek. 

“ Tell me if it be so, Catherine? Perhaps, then, I may reflect 
with less bitterness on the past ; may not feel so totally nothing 
in your estimation ” 

“I owe you some explanation. Yes, Charles, you are right. 
My hand was not in my power to bestow, from the very first day 
we met,” exclaimed Lady Catherine, hurriedly. 

“ I see ; and you were drooping under, the burden of your secret 
union with an unknown. Catherine, I read now the explanation 
of that anguish which made my heart bleed to witness. And this 
is love ! This is Mr. Randolph’s love ! ” exclaimed Mr. Turville, 
indignantly. 

“Yes, Charles; a love, sincere and precious even for its dis- 
trust, which I would not relinquish for the treasures of the world ; 
a love which spared me anguish indescribable. Even when con- 
vinced of my unswerving affection, a keen and chivalrous sense of 
honor induced Lord Normanton to delay the recognition of his 
marriage until after that most unhappy encounter with Colonel 
Sutherland ; and I glory in awarding my unfeigned applause to 
his decision ! ” exclaimed Lady Catherine, her bright eyes flashing. 

“ Lady Normanton could not properly express herself otherwise 
than you have just done, Catherine,” replied Mr. Turville, in his 
sharpest, driest manner. 

Lady Catherine arose from her seat. 

“ This is inexcusable, Charles ! Did you visit me this morning 
only to insult and outrage my feelings ? I will tell you no more. 
This bitter spirit is unworthy of my confidence,” said she, resent- 
fully, moving towards the door. 

“ Forgive me ! The anguish of knowing you irreparably lost 
to me makes' me heedless even of incurring your resentment. Go 
not, Catherine ! Give me your confidence, and I will be more 
cautious in my comments. I will strive to remember that I see 
in you Lord Normanton’s wife,” exclaimed Mr. Turville, hastily 
rising and detaining her. 


400 


PIQUE. 


The saddened tones of his voice kindled Lady Catherine’s pity. 

“Oh, Charles, why will you persist in talking to me thus? 
Listen, dear cousin ; this subject, after our present interview, must 
never be renewed between us — never ! You must try and forget 
me, Charles ; forget that you ever thought of me in any other light 
than that of an affectionate friend and sister. Now, as you desire 
it, and as I think that it is also due to myself, you shall hear the 
whole of my history ; only remember, dear Charles, I confide it to 
you in strict confidence; none besides yourself, Lord Alresford, 
and one or two others, know of my private marriage or betrothal 
to Lord Normanton, as the Earl properly insists that it shall be 
considered ; ” and Lady Catherine then briefly, in a clear and, at 
times, slightly faltering voice, related to her cousin the principal 
passages of her connection with Lord Normanton. 

“And when is the ceremony of your marriage to be performed 
again, Catherine ? ” asked Mr. Turville, some minutes after Lady 
Catherine concluded, rousing from another fit of abstraction. 

“ Soon, I believe ; but the time is yet uncertain,” replied Lady 
Catherine, hastily. 

“ Because on that day I mean to leave England. I have already 
made arrangements for breaking up my establishment at Nether- 
cote. Do not attempt to dissuade me, Catherine,” said he, observ- 
ing symptoms of surprise and disappointment on his cousin’s face. 
“In a year or two I may return home sobered, rational, and 
able to contemplate Lord Normanton’ s happiness without a bitter 
murmur that my lot has been less blessed,” added Mr. Turville, 
sorrowfully. 

For some minutes Lady Catherine was silent. She felt it almost 
unbecoming, hard-hearted, to attempt to argue on the insufficiency 
of the grounds on which her cousin proposed to expatriate himself. 

“Wait awhile, dear Charles; for my sake, consent to delay your 
project for three months.” He was silent. Lady Catherine con- 
tihued, gently, after a pause, “ Maude Conway suffered deeply ; 
yet, Charles, she found not her grief incurable.” 

“ She loved not then with the deep abandonment of heart, like 
I have done,” responded he, shortly and moodily. 

Lady Catherine thought that perhaps hereafter this very fact 
might prove Mr. Turville’s greatest comfort and consolation. 

“ Colonel Sutherland was scarcely the man to inspire profound 
attachment,” promptly rejoined she, gladly shifting the conversa- 
tion from herself. “ He has written a most penitential letter to 
Maude, expressive of the greatest contrition for the past, earnestly 
suing for forgiveness, and imploring permission to renew hia 
addresses.” 


PIQUE. 


401 


“ And Miss Conway consented ? ” 

“ Most certainly not. Colonel Sutherland, every way so treach- 
erous and unstable, could never hope for pardon. Poor Maude 
shudders whenever his name is mentioned in her presence.” 

“Yes, he was unworthy ; therefore Miss Conway speedily ban- 
ished' him from her heart. Our cases are not parallel, Catherine.” 

She made no reply ; but rising from her chair approached the 
window. Mr. Turville presently joined her ; Lady Catherine hoped 
with the intent of saying farewell, — for the prolonged interview 
was becoming irksome and embarrassing. He, however, evinced 
no such inclination, and she turned therefore, and took up her 
book ; then in another minute hastily laid it down, and approached r 
the window again. 

“Frederic!” exclaimed she, suddenly, as two beautiful dogs 
bounded past on the terrace. 

“ Yes, yonder comes Lord Normanton. Catherine, I cannot stay 
to witness his happiness. Farewell ! we shall meet on the morning ; 
of your marriage ! May you find every blessing, every joy in your 
union. Farewell!” and Mr. Turville precipitately quitted the* 
room. 

A few tears suffused Lady Catherine’s eyes, and she stood a. 
moment in silent thought. Soon, however, a smile lighted her 
beautiful features, and she stepped out on the terrace to welcome * 
Lord Normanton. 

“ I thought to have found Mr. Turville here, Catherine,” ex- 
claimed he, as they presently entered the room together. 

“ He has just left me. Poor Charles ! Never was there a truer 
or more honorable heart than his. I would give much to see him 
happy again,” replied Lady Catherine, gravely. 

“ Which means, I suppose, Catherine, that had I delayed until 
now to strive for individual empire over your heart, I should have* 
found it strongly garrisoned enough to defy all my attacks. This 
formidable cousin of yours came to Moreton this morning; and, 
upon my word, uttered the sharpest rebuke possible for my past' 
jealousy, by asking, in the coolest, driest manner conceivable, 
permission to call upon you,” exclaimed Lord Normanton, laugh- 
ing. 

“And you deserved it, Frederic. Had it not been for your 
suspicious distrust and injurious disbelief in human faith and. 
truth, poor Charles would have been saved much that he has 
undergone. Had you suffered me, after your arrival in England,, 
to have declared myself yours, and then told me all, what sorrow, 
indeed, should we not all have been spared ! ” 

34 * 


402 


PIQUE. 


“ Catherine, it is your example, your own bright truth and love, 
which alone make me regret the past. In you, I perceive that 
there is such a thing as pure, disinterested affection. In the 
world, cold, calculating interest, interferes in the dearest relations 
of life ; for why do the majority of women marry, but from a desire 
to throw off parental restraint, or to obtain either wealth or station ? 
Even these perverted principles I heard my own mother instil into 
the ears of my innocent sisters; I heard her tell them that an 
establishment was everything, — the heart nothing. I became 
then suspicious, and loathed the smiles of the pretty triflers who 
caressed me only because I was wealthy and a lord. I panted to 
be loved for myself. Catherine, my own Catherine, though from 
childhood upwards you have ever dwelt in my heart, yet even you 
I suspected. You had rank and wealth equal to my own ; these, 
then, could not be your objects ; yet I knew that our union would 
be considered a desirable event by both our families, and I feared 
lest you might be persuaded into it by motives of policy and ex- 
pediency. I met you again, my Catherine, while suffering most 
keenly under the disadvantages and mortifications of my enforced 
exile. Your smile and glance kindled the love I had long borne 
you into almost idolatrous worship. I resolved at once, therefore, 
to make my compulsory disguise subservient to the bitter distrust 
which still rankled in my mind ; to prove whether my passionate 
devotion had roused feelings as intense and ardent in your heart, 

— and need I say I obtained proof greater, oh, far greater, than I 
dared hope. Do you, however, thoroughly pardon, my own Cath- 
erine, the miserable suspense my jealous doubts entailed after 
my arrival in England? When, after having heard of Robert 
Conway’s safe embarkation for America, I might have revealed 
the mystery which shrouded me, and *yet refrained ? ” and Lord 
Norman ton turned impetuously, eagerly towards her. 

“ Infidel ! you deserve the severest punishment in my power to 
inflict, for harboring these doubts ; yet, nevertheless, I feel rather 
proud of my convert.” She paused; “No, dear Frederic, I am 
too happy, too thoroughly content with my lot, to quarrel with you 
for the past ; but never more let the trust I have so hardly won 
be shaken,” said Lady Catherine, earnestly. 

“ Never, Catherine ! ” After a pause, Lord Normanton resumed 

— “ Tell me, when am I to receive your hand from Lord Alres- 
ford? I confess, Catherine, that I am beginning to weary of 
playing the lover so long, and shall take upon myself to write to 
Mr. Clare, and fix a time for our marriage, or resort to the more 
desperate step of carrying you off to Witham. It is ten months 


403 


| PIQUE. 

6ince I placed this ring on your finger, my Catherine ; is it not 
now time to reward my patience and love — time that the world 
should know you mine ? ” 

“ Your confession is a very hold one, Frederic ; weary already 
of playing the lover ! I wonder what you will tell me this day 
six months,” exclaimed Lady Catherine, turning aside her blushing 
cheek. 

“ That you are loved, if possible, tenfold more devotedly and 
entirely. But listen, Catherine, to what I have done. For once 
I have made arbitrary use of my power over you, and have written 
to Lord Alresford, appointing Thursday next as the day on which 
you will confirm anew our union. The Earl perfectly coincides 
in my desire, and suggests, moreover, that the ceremony shall take 
place privately in Amesbury Church ; only in the presence of our 
respective families. Nay, Catherine dearest, it is perfectly need- 
less assuming that pretty air of displeasure, despite the mortifying 
fact that your hands are tied, and that you have nothing for it but 
to submit graciously to the loss of the privilege so highly prized by 
ladies in general, of resorting to a species of guerilla warfare to 
delay their submission,” said Lord Normanton, laughingly. 

“ And Lord Alresford — has he actually committed the solecism 
of consenting to your request without previously consulting me ? ’ 
exclaimed Lady Catherine, demurely. 

“ Indeed, he has. Nay, dearest, I know you will suffer no 
foolish scruples to delay my happiness. I must have you all to 
myself, and long to carry you off to Witham, where you once so 
stoutly refused to follow me. You consent, Catherine ? ” 

Her beautiful eyes fell under his gaze. She attempted to rise 
from her chair. 

“ No ; you are my prisoner until you promise,” exclaimed Lord 
Normanton, throwing his arm lightly round her. “ Promise next 
Thursday to lay aside your heiress-ship, and surrender at discretion.” 

“Nay, Frederic, I am very angry at this importunity,” responded 
Lady Catherine, with downcast eyes, though a smile flitted on her 
lip. “ Consider, as we conceal the past, how%range this hasty 
marriage will appear in the neighborhood.” 

“I care not, Catherine ; and am resolved to be deprived no 
longer of your constant society, beyond Thursday next. I am in 
a condition to prove, with Mr. Clare’s assistance, our undoubted 
marriage at Narbonne ; and this, if you will not consent to my 
proposal, is what I shall immediately set about doing. I love you 
too ardently, patiently to undergo a repetition of our courtship ; 
you are my wife, and such I will immediately acknowledge you. 


404 


PIQUE. 


Surely, Catherine, it is too late now to Ibegin to play the coquette 1 
Let me hear your decision,” said Lord Normanton, in those per- 
suasive yet resolute tones which exercised such influence over her. 

“ Well, Frederic, my decision is, that considering the length of 
time I have been yours — considering that I love you dearly — 
and considering that you leave me no choice in the matter, I con- 
sent ! ” rejoined Lady Catherine, archly, though the color suffused 
her cheek. 

“As a loving, obedient wife ought to do. Ah, Catherine, you 
cannot tyrannize over me now ! ” said Lord Normanton, laughing, 
as he kissed her glowing cheek. 

“ I have been writing to Isabella this morning,” observed Lady 
Catherine, blushingly seeking to resume her work. 

“ So has Maude. It seems she intends still to remain in Paris 
for some weeks longer. I am sorry to see that Isabella’s selfish 
pursuit of pleasure makes her so lamentably deficient in her sense 
of what is due to her family, as to remain the guest of Mrs. St. 
Priest ; a connection of the man who has so deeply injured her 
sister. But do not let us talk of Isabella ; it makes me sad to 
think of what she might have been, and what she is.” 

“ If she could only be drawn from Mrs. St. Priest’s influence,” 
observed Lady Catherine, glancing at Lord Normanton, on his 
allusion to Colonel Sutherland. Perceiving, then, that for the first 
time since the duel, his arm was unsupported by a sling, she has- 
tily added — “Frederic, I hope you are not imprudently using 
your arm again without medical permission ? ” 

“No; I am quite well again, so you need not fear, dearest, 
being subjected to the panic which assailed you in the hermitage 
at Amesbury. To think that the slipping of a bandage should 
have caused you so much needless alarm ! ” 

“Not needless ; your imprudence then might have been fatal,” 
rejoined Lady Catherine, shuddering. 

“ My eagerness to see you, Catherine, doubtless made me greatly 
anticipate the hour I fixed ; for I waited a considerable time for 
you — indeed, a##ong as I was able. I only discovered, after my 
return, the cause of the sudden faintness which overpowered me. 
The wound was too slightly bound for such an expedition ; for 
you may be sure I cautiously concealed my projected visit to 
Amesbury.” 

“ Suppose Lord Alresford had accosted you, Frederic? ” 

“ I was then a stranger to the Earl, and should have devised 
some excuse. But, Catherine, my anxiety afterwards became 
insupportable. Lord Alresford’ s visit was a release, indeed, from 


pique. 405 

most terrible suspense ; though the following day I had resolved 
to see you.” 

“ The Earl displayed, in my opinion, most unjust partiality in 
administering his reprimands on our conduct. It seems that you, 
Frederic, who were the principal culprit, escaped with the most 
courteous of censures ; whilst I literally felt overwhelmed with the 
enormity of my offence, as represented to me,” said Lady Catherine, 
with a smile. 

“ The confession of your marriage to an unknown, whose abode 
you could not even state, was rather an appalling avowal to make 
to a guardian, we must acknowledge, Catherine. Lord Alresford’s 
very kind reception of my explanation and excuses must, I sup- 
pose, be attributed to his delight that you had not quite reduced 
yourself to the strait he apprehended.” 

“ I wonder whether we shall see Helen Campbell before — before 
we go to Witham ! ” said Lady Catherine, after a pause. “You 
will admire her very much, I feel assured, Frederic. Mildred 
drove over to tell me yesterday of her engagement to Sir Gerard 
Baynton ; which event, you know your prank at Amesbury nearly 
frustrated.” 

“I am prepared to feel eternally indebted to Miss Campbell. 
Her noble unselfishness, Catherine, deserves the reward of such 
a heart as Baynton’s. Should she not be present on Thursday 
next ? ” 

“ I will write immediately and request it. I am sure Helen 
will come ; though I dare say Lady Alresford has heard from her 
again. But here comes dear Maude. I think you told me, Fred- 
eric, that she was going this morning to Amesbury, so she will 
bring us the latest news,” exclaimed Lady Catherine, as Miss 
Conway entered the room. 

Maude, however, had not been to Amesbury; for, as usual, 
Lady Normanton’s capricious humors frustrated her design. The 
knowledge that her son had won, and was on the point of marriage 
with, the heiress of Wardour (for their previous union at Narbonne 
was carefully concealed from her), at first excited Lady Norman- 
ton’s rapture and astonishment; and still in Lord Norman ton’s 
presence she descanted upon it with the utmost complacency. 
After a time, however, in her private dialogues with Maude, the 
most peevish complaints escaped her lips, that her son had not paid 
her the compliment of confiding his attachment to her ; and fretful 
suppositions ever followed, that from henceforth all his love and 
interest would be centred in Lady Catherine, to her entire exclu- 
sion. Maude allowed her mother’s discontent free course ; and by 


406 


PIQUE. 


never combating it, obtained for the household a considerable 
greater degree of tranquillity than would have been the case had 
Isabella been at home to provoke Lady Normanton’s irritable 
temper by stinging sarcasm. 

Maude's greatest joy was to fly from her troublous home, and 
accompany her brother in his daily visits to Wardour ; and as Lord 
Normanton peremptorily insisted that she should not be confined a 
constant prisoner in her mother’s chamber, this pleasure was fre- 
quently hers; the only one that could now impart momentary 
satisfaction and delight ; for Miss Conway lamented deeply the 
disappointment which had befallen her. When Maude gave her 
heart to Colonel Sutherland, she did it honestly, with a thorough 
conviction that in him she had found that congeniality of disposi- 
tion, honor, and sincere attachment which would insure her future 
happiness ; and of all sorrows there is none greater than the 
struggle to cast from the affection one formerly very dear ; aggra- 
vated by the secret consciousness that he has fallen — fallen not 
only from the high pinnacle on which our own partiality elevated 
him, but also in the esteem and approbation of all good, right- 
thinking men. Her spirits were more subdued ; yet, though she 
grieved, a feeling of thankfulness also mingled in Maude's regrets, 
that she had been preserved from union with a man whose conduct 
must finally have rendered her life one hard struggle between duty 
and alienation. 

With a smile on her lip — a resigned if not an entirely happy 
one — Maude often turned her thoughtful, earnest eyes, and com 
templated with thankful heart her beloved brother’s happiness ; it 
dissipated the bitterness of her grief, and proved to her that loving, 
steadfast devotion was no ideal. Catching, therefore, something 
of the reflex of his trustful joy, Maude took courage ; and insensi- 
bly, though surely, the hope at length sprang up within her, that a 
time might come when even she should taste of this bliss of being 
so beloved. Chastened, therefore, though not desponding, Maude in 
a humble spirit submitted to her allotted share of the great lesson 
of life. Taught thereby wisdom and resignation, her disappoint- 
ment was blessed to her ; and like a tree cut down to the root, 
that for long exhibits no signs of vitality, but which afterwards 
springs forth in renovated freshness and beauty, so Maude Conway, 
after a brief eclipse, smiled again, and thankfully acknowledged 
that if this world of ours be a world of grievous trial and trouble, 
it is also one of numberless blessings ; while His infinite mercy 
and love who created all things, sheds even a halo around the 
severest affliction. 


PIQUE. 


407 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

It would be needless to give any description of Mrs. Campbell’s 
delight, when, on her return from the village, she found her 
daughter and Sir Gerard Baynton together ; our readers must have 
obtained insight enough into her aspiring disposition to imagine 
her transports. Suffice it to say, that the warmth of her welcome 
delighted Sir Gerard, and her joy kindled even a sunnier smile on 
Helen’s happy face. 

The following days were days of exquisite, unmingled happiness 
to Helen ; to which Mildred’s brief letter contributed not a little. 
That her loved friend should be restored to peace, and her own lot 
so joyous, were blessings calling forth her deepest outpourings of 
gratitude. Helen, however, was not elated by the prosperity that 
had befallen her. Her serious, well-poised mind) while it grate- 
fully acknowledged, trembled at the magnitude of the blessings 
showered upon her ; and humble and fervent were her supplica- 
tions that she might so use these gifts as one day to be held 
blameless, though not in her own merits, by that Almighty Being 
who had thus richly endowed her. That firm Christian principle 
which enabled her to submit with cheerful patience under temporary 
adversity, now proved Helen’s sure, unfailing guide in prosperity. 
She knew this world to be a vast chequered scene, a world of 
alternate gloom and sunshine, and she set a watch over her heart 
as one who knows not what the next day may bring forth. As for 
Sir Gerard, language appeared powerless to express his devotion, 
when he gazed on her earnest features, and daily and hourly beheld 
in their expression of deep, trustful happiness, the hold which he 
possessed over her heart. Day after day found them still lingering 
at Greysdon, until a lively reprimand from Mildred, and a rousing 
appeal from Lady Catherine, admonished them both that this 
exclusive enjoyment of each other’s society must /or the present 
cease. 

Lord Alresford’s ample acknowledgments, and his anxiety to do 
Helen justice, were keenly appreciated both by Mr. and Mrs. 
Campbell ; and the latter, even in the full glow of her joy and 
triumph when exhibiting Sir Gerard’s devotion to the admiring gaze 
of the village, heroically declared that, could she thereby mark 
her sense of the Earl’s kind condescension, she would consent to 
her daughter’s immediate departure for Amesbury without an 
hour’s needless delay. Helen’s journey thither, however, was 
finally arranged for the Tuesday before Lady Catherine’s wed. 


408 


PIQUE, 


ding-day ; Mrs. Campbell being somewhat reconciled to the part- 
ing by her extreme gratification that her daughter was to officiate 
with Miss Conway as bridesmaid on that occasion. 

As for Mildred, words can inadequately paint the perfect con- 
tent and happiness which now diffused itself over every act and 
incident of her life. From that eventful evening when dissimula- 
tion had been thrown from her, the change in her feelings can 
alone be likened to the rapid burst of spring in a northern clime ; 
where, under the ardent sunbeams, dreary sombre wastes become, 
in a few hours, verdant meadows enamelled with flowers and foli- 
age ; for no less suddenly had happiness pervaded M ildred’s spirit. 
The training had been rude, but at length that inestimable gift of 
self-knowledge was its reward. She learned to distrust herself, to 
doubt the infallibility of her own conclusions ; she realized the 
wisdom of cool, dispassionate judgment; and above all she was 
taught to shun and abhor that disingenuous and unworthy cavilling 
with truth, which had well-nigh wrought such disastrous conse- 
quences. Her life at present appeared one long dream of happi- 
ness ; so novel to her was that fresh feeling of love and confidence 
which replaced the miserable suspense and dissatisfaction of the 
preceding months. No lingering feeling now of pique or embar- 
rassment repressed the joyful welcome, or the smile which parted 
Mildred’s beautiful lips, whenever her husband sought her society. 
She saw the truth and intensity of his affection, and wondered how 
she ever could have doubted. “ Happiness is a joy realized only 
in this world by its contrast with misery ; were we exempt from 
the pangs of the latter, happiness would be an ideal,” says an emi- 
nent casuist ; and Mildred experienced this joy in its utmost inten- 
sity, as she listened to the words of trustful love which now fell 
from the Earl’s lips, and recalled the anxiety and foreboding so 
long her bane. 

Days thus sped on, until the time came which was to bring Htlen 
Campbell back to Amesbury. Unlike the afternoon of her friend’s 
former arrival, Mildred passed her hours of suspense other than in 
feverish, restless wanderings ; she sat in her boudoir, her elbow 
resting on the table before her, on which lay her drawing and vari- 
ous other trifling articles of feminine occupation. Autumn had 
robbed her garden of much of its beauty, but still the gorgeous 
hues of the heavens, as the sun sank to rest, cast a warmth over 
the landscape without. Her face was turned towards the window, 
and she thought ; but no furrow of care contracted her brow, 
bathed ever and anon in the faint golden light. Presently the 
door opened, and Lord Alresford entered. Mildred joyfully arose. 


PIQUE. 


409 


“ You have kept your promise, and have not been long absent,” 
exclaimed she, advancing towards him. 

“No; but yet I have accomplished that which took me to 
Avington ; while you, Mildred, what have you been doing ? I 
left you sitting precisely as I find you, with that leaf half sketched 
and the whole group of flowers every whit as much advanced,” 
said the Earl, laughingly, as he glanced at the drawing before 
her, kissed the cheek turned towards him, and sat down by her 
side. 

“ I have been thinking, Alresford, how grateful my great pres- 
ent happiness ought to make me ; and comparing it with the incer- 
titude which tortured me five weeks ago, when I before expected 
dear Helen. I can scarcely imagine, now, the indescribable feel- 
ing which kept me away, when my heart pined to be with you.” 

“ Or the foolish shyness that made you contritely apologize for 
your intrusion into my room, and many similar absurdities. Do 
you remember, Mildred, the difficulty I had in detaining you for a 
few minutes in the trap into which Miss Tennyson so unsuspect- 
ingly lured you ? ” 

“Nay, I think you did your best to frighten me away by the 
vehemence of your reprimand. Confess that you were then very 
angry with me.” 

“ I do not deny it. I was not then initiated into the guiding 
maxim of ypur conduct, Mildred ; or, be sure, my remedy would 
have been different throughout. I did not know that when you 
slighted me most you loved me best,” replied the Earl, laughing. 

“ Yet, Alresford, you then restored this ring.” 

“ But you remember, Mildred, on what condition I gave it you 
back. You had not then owned yourself mine, or annulled the 
separation between us ; therefore I could but attribute to momen- 
tary caprice your desire for its restoration, while you continued to 
evince such disregard for obligations still more recent, sacred, and 
binding.” 

“You have never yet told me how you regained possession of it 
from Colonel Sutherland,” said Mildred, earnestly, drawing the 
ring from her finger. 

“ Easily enough, in comparison with your toils, my wayward 
wife,” answered Lord Alresford, with a smile. “ Mrs. St. Priest’s 
courtesy was unsurpassed, though my sudden visit startled even 
her practised dissimulation. When I firmly insisted that your 
name should be withdrawn from public mention, with infinite pres- 
ence of mind, she not only promised compliance, but offered, as she 
perceived the whole affair was disagreeable to you, to sacrifice the 
35 


410 


PIQUE. 


paragraph. With her most insinuating smile, Mrs. St. Priest then 
assured me, that she could not compare the gratification of her 
own and Edward’s vanity with the satisfaction of affording you 
even momentary pleasure.” 

“ Dissembler ! But Colonel Sutherland ” 

“ Did not make his appearance. I suppose his assurance was 
scarcely equal to an interview with me. Mrs. St. Priest, when I 
demanded the ring, at first tried to put me off with excuses, that 
she knew not where to find it during Colonel Sutherland’s absence, 
and assured me that it should be forwarded to Amesbury in the 
course of the afternoon. However, after I made her clearly com- 
prehend that it was not my intention to quit her house without it, 
she left the room, and in a short time returned, saying, that, fortu- 
nately, she had found the ring on her boudoir table amongst several 
articles just returned from the jewellers’ at Avington. I made no 
comment on the glaring falsity of her excuse ; but, having obtained 
what I wished, I immediately took my leave.” 

“ To what vexations has my past folly exposed you ! ” exclaimed 
Mildred, earnestly and sadly. 

“ Now, my own Mildred, the past is more than repaired, and I 
look back on it as other* than the deed of her whose affection is the 
most precious treasure I possess,” replied the Earl, as his arm 
encircled her. 

A few tears moistened her dark eyes, as she tumedj:hem from 
him. * 

“ And yet you would have left me,” murmured she, reproach- 
fully. 

“ As my only resource. Mildred, dearest, did not I well perform 
my promise never to tyrranize over your affection ? ” 

“Yes; you justly abandoned me to the punishment of my 
waywardness,” murmured she, hastily, assiduously pursuing her 
occupation. 

“ There is still one more of your past misdemeanors, Mildred, 
which I have to call you to account for. What was the reason of 
your . sudden and provoking desire to go to town soon after our 
marriage ? ” 

A vivid blush overspread Lady Alresford’s face. 

“ Nay, why did you refuse to let me go ? Confess it was a 
most abominable act of tyranny on your part,” replied she, 
hurriedly parrying the question. 

“ I know you do not now think so. What whim then possessed 
you, Mildred ? ” asked the Earl, laughing. 

“ Lady Catherine, ” replied Mildred, bending over hex 


PIQUE. 


411 


drawing “ But I do not intend to afford any further explanation 
of the matter, replied she suddenly, in her former lively tones, 
turning towards the Earl with a smile. 

“Perhaps, Mildred, had I yielded to this sudden impulse, I 
should have lost you forever ? ” 

“ Hush ! I peremptorily forbid, my lord, any more allusion to 
past events,” exclaimed she, playfully putting her hand across the 
Earl’s lips. “ It is, however, a most consolatory fact to know that 
my late imaginary rival is now beyond the reach of giving me fur- 
ther anxiety ; and to render my triumph and satisfaction complete, 
I have only to make your lordship acknowledge that I may for the 
future follow my own good pleasure, and go to town when I choose. 
May I do this ? ” 

“ Provided you do not make an arbitrary use of your power and 
insist upon going alone,” replied Lord Alresford, laughingly. 

She smiled ; then, disengaging her hand from his grasp, resumed 
her employment. Lord Alresford presently rose. 

“ What is all this about, Mildred? Are you filling this splen- 
did-looking volume with an essay on the hardships of matrimony ? ” 
asked he, suddenly ; and taking her journal from its stand, he 
quickly glanced over its leaves. 

Lady Alresford started hurriedly from her seat, and took the 
book from the Earl’s hands. A deep blush overspread her beautiful 
face. 

“ It is a diary, I see. Did I not once before nearly surprise its 
secrets ? What treason have you been writing, that its contents 
are so carefully guarded?” asked the Earl, laughingly; attempt- 
ing again to take the book from her. 

Her white hands retained their hold of the book with nervous 
eagerness. 

“ I cannot, indeed, show it you, dear Alresford. This book was 
my solace during our days of alienation ; in my lonely hours I 
used to amuse myself with noting down all manner of absurd sup- 
positions, and it is therefore such a record of past follies that I 
should blush for it to meet your eye ! ” 

“ Nay, let me* read, Mildred. Let me read the workings of your 
heart during those days,” rejoined Lord Alresford, earnestly. . 

“I cannot, ask anything rather than this, Alresford. Besides, 
I do not choose to indulge your vanity by the perusal,” said she, 
with a smile, attempting to walk away with the book in her hand. 
Soon, however, she was detained by his encircling arm. 

“ Mildred, give me this last and only remaining proof of love 
and confidence in your power to bestow. Let me read this record 
of your most secret thoughts.” 


412 


PIQUE. 


Mildred trembled. The tones of the Earl’s voice thrilled her 
heart, and she felt it vain to resist such entreaty. Unresistingly, 
she now suffered him to take the volume from her hand. Her soft 
eyes were bathed in tears — tears of pleasurable, heartfelt emotion, 
as he drew her again to his side. With her fair cheek, sometimes 
wet with tears, then dimpled with smiles, resting on his bosom, 
she watched his progress. So absorbed were they that they heeded 
not the swift lapse of time ; and Mildred, some hours afterwards, 
was only roused from her trance of happiness by a low knock at 
the boudoir door. It immediately opened, and on the threshold 
stood some one, apparently hesitating whether to advance or retreat. 
A cry of joy escaped Lady Alresford’s lips as she started from her 
husband’s arms, and flung herself on the neck of her faithful friend 
Helen Campbell. 

We need not dilate on Helen’s joy at the occular evidence which 
first greeted her of her beloved friend’s new-found happiness, nor 
on the cordial, almost brotherly welcome she received from Lord 
Alresford ; a friendship and esteem which never after varied, and 
which Helen always prized as one of her choicest privileges. 

On the day appointed, Lord Normanton received from the Earl, 
Lady Catherine’s hand. Her noble, energetic character suffered 
no deterioration from contact with the world. Unswervingly she 
fulfilled the duties of her station and calling, and though lights 
and shadows diversified her allotted path in life, blessings predom- 
inated. If in after years a blush would occasionally tingle in 
Lady Normanton’s cheeks, as she recalled her youthful imprudence 
at Narbonne, yet deep and fervent was her gratitude for the hap- 
piness which had sprung therefrom ; and as she gazed on the noble 
intellectual countenance of her husband, and felt that his contin- 
ued love was her brightest earthly gift, involuntarily words of 
thanksgiving would arise for that overruling Providence which 
ordained that such abundant joy should result from what was once 
the source of the keenest misery and suspense. 

Mrs. Otway never quitted her beloved friend and pupil. Happy 
in Lady Normanton’s felicity, her days glided tranquilly by ; the 
greatest and most stirring event of her after life b6ing the occasion 
when those objects of Mrs. St. Priest’s antipathy, the cotton anti- 
macassars and covers, were gradually supplanted by delicate fab- 
rics of silk and wool, which finally transformed themselves into 
tiny articles of infant apparel. It was perfectly marvellous to 
contemplate the extent of the good old lady’s labors in this line ; 
for not only did she benefit Witham by her indefatigable industry, 
but actually extended her favors to Amesbury also ; unable, ai 


PIQUE. 


413 


Bhe averred, to withstand the fascinating smile of that sweet, 
pretty Lady Alresford. 

Within four months after Lady Normanton’s marriage, Helen 
Campbell became the wife of Sir Gerard Baynton. At Lord Alres- 
ford’ s especial desire, she was married from Amesbury. Great and 
infinite, therefore, was Mrs. Campbell’s triumph ; though even her 
heedless loquacity was subdued, when she gratefully spoke of her 
daughter’s fortunate lot, and of Helen’s happiness in possessing so 
warm and true-hearted a friend as Lady Alresford ; one likewise 
who had effectually and perseveringly promoted her interest in 
life. 

Colonel Sutherland met the fate of most unprincipled men, when 
foiled in their base schemes on the happiness or reputation of 
others ; with this aggravation, that his love for Mildred was deep, 
ardent, and lasting; as it was selfish and unscrupulous. Her 
image perpetually rose to taunt him ; while, with unspeakable bit- 
terness, he was compelled to acknowledge that he was nothing to 
her ; nay, he knew, so absolute was her forgetfulness, that not even 
a thought of him arose to trouble the calm tenor of her life. Now 
and then he caught a glimpse of her in public ; and the sight of 
her placid brow and happy smile added bitterness to his regrets. 
After a year or two of reckless dissipation, Colonel Sutherland 
quitted the army, and betook himself to a listless, roving life on 
the Continent ; perpetually in search of that happiness, which ever 
fled from his pursuit ; forgetting that they who would win this 
precious boon, must first take Principle as their unerring guide, 
for the attainment of that peace which, without it, is vainly, 
fruitlessly sought. 

Foiled in her malicious designs, Mrs. St. Priest discovered on 
her return home, after an absence of six months, that the local 
distinction for which she so assiduously toiled had vanished. Of 
course, she found the doors of Amesbury closed against her ; and 
Sir Gerard Baynton and Lord and Lady Norman ton followed the 
example of Lord Alresford. Supported only by Miss Isabella 
Conway and her mother, whom the former worried into espousing 
her friend’s quarrel, Mrs. St. Priest, incapable of making head 
against such formidable discountenance, had the supreme, though 
well-merited mortification of learning that the universal popularity 
she had hitherto boastfully enjoyed, unsupported by heredi- 
tary prestige or goodness of her own, was merely an ingenious 
method devised by little people to pay indirect court to great ones ; 
and that now, on the same principle, at the nod of the latter, hith- 
erto her supposed patrons, none could be more obligingly eager 
35 * 


414 


PIQUE. 


than her former devoted friends to hasten her downfall. Despite 
this unpalatable lesson, Mrs. St. Priest, nevertheless, fought stren- 
uously to recover her lost position ; but Lady Alresford, keenly 
alive to the peril she had escaped, was too indignant, when she 
reflected on the treachery of the plot for her overthrow, and the 
audacity of the subtle intriguer in presuming to tamper with feel- 
ings so sacred, ever again to hold out the hand of friendship ; and 
her fiat*was deemed conclusive in the neighborhood. 

From the generosity of her designing coadjutor, Colonel Suther- 
land, Mrs. St. Priest, as was fitting she should do, met with some 
compensation for the loss of her popularity. Though her promise 
had not been realized, it was neither for lack of good-will nor exer- 
tion on her part ; therefore, ’in due time, the Cotgrove estate, the 
wages of her contemplated iniquity, owned her for its mistress. 
In the autumn of the following year she quitted forever the scene 
of her humiliation, and took up her abode in the northern county 
where her new possessions lay ; with a heart angered and revenge- 
ful, perpetually lamenting the position her own evil conduct had 
forfeited, wrestling ever with envy and discontent ; a lamentable 
spectacle, in her frivolity, of the misery wrought by the absence 
of high actuating principle and undeviating perseverance in the 
path of rectitude. 

Mon-Bijou, restored to its pristine appellation of “ The Briars,” 
soon after Sir Gerard’s marriage became the abode of Lady Emily 
Baynton ; and if example were wanting to exhibit the beauty of a 
life of Christian consistency and usefulness, it was found in Lady 
Emily’s character. 

Mr. Egremont Turville kept his word, and went abroad the day 
after his cousin’s marriage with Lord Normanton. After wander- 
ing for two years in various parts of Europe, he returned home, 
heart-whole — cured of his disappointment. Lady Norman ton, 
during the period of his absence, was Mr. Turville’ s constant cor- 
respondent; and whether, with womanly ingenuity, she cleverly 
seized the opportunity, and contrived to interest him in the pros- 
pects and daily actions of her loved and cherished sister Maude, 
we cannot tell. Certain it is, however, that soon after his return, 
Lady Normanton had the happiness of seeing her long-projected 
scheme realized ; and Maude Conway, with feelings deeper and 
far more real than the feverish attachment she once professed for 
Colonel Sutherland, at length became the wife of Mr. Turville ; 
and we are bound to record, that after this event he never was 
detected in a lingering sigh or a passing regret, as he contemplated 
Lord Normanton’s domestic happiness. 


PIQUE. 


415 


Miss Tennyson married Mr. Frank Norwood, and partook with 
him, to her heart’s content, of that life of hustling conviviality 
End change which she loved so well. Under his skilful training 
she learned to bet on a race with a critical confidence worthy of 
the keenest and most inveterate lover of the turf ; while in her 
hunting feats she sometimes distanced and kept at bay a whole 
field of veteran sportsmen ; yet, always generous and open- 
hearted, Mrs. Norwood scrambled through life with amazing popu- 
larity amongst her set. Suited admirably to her husband (who 
ever looked upon her as a prodigy), immersed in the rattle and 
excitement of her busy life, whilst youth and health lasted, Clara 
thought herself at the summit of human felicity; and at this 
point, therefore, we will bid her farewell. 

Sir Richard Tennyson’s career, after his union with Miss Vin- 
cent, was a total contrast to that of his sister ; though, at the 
period of his marriage, his tastes and habits were very much in 
accord with hers. The drooping, sentimental Caroline, soon after 
she became Lady Tennyson, did not long delay demonstrating her 
abhorrence of the boisterous jests and hilarity of her husband’s 
boon companions, or in issuing the mandate which from thenceforth 
excluded them from her drawing-room. The same decree also dar- 
ingly struck at another grievance, and remorselessly debarred from 
the like privilege Sir Richard’s favorite hounds; who were no 
longer allowed to stretch their noble limbs on the hearth-rugs, or, 
in their rude gambols with their master, to overturn tables and 
smash choice articles of porcelain; events of daily occurrence 
under the dowager’s rule, who never dare hint at, still less carry 
out, such sweeping innovations. Lady Tennyson, moreover, signi- 
fied it to be her pleasure that Sir Richard should forthwith abjure 
horse-breaking ; and, in short, condemned his whole outer man to 
undergo the transformation necessary to impart to it that dignity 
indispensable to the happy individual who called her wife, and who 
owned, besides, the broad acres of Settringham. Fortunately, 
Sir Richard idolized his little simpering, though determined wife, 
and good-naturedly yielding first one thing and then another to her 
whims, gradually the lapse of four or five years sobered him down 
into a hale country gentleman, kind-hearted and generous ; not 
over-refined, though wise enough to tolerate, while he laughed at, 
the follies of the fine people with whom it was Lady Tennyson’s 
pleasure to fill his house. 

Mrs. Wedderbourne, though momentarily chagrined that her 
niece' had failed to secure a coronet, eschewed her visionary schemes 
of aggrandizement when she beheld the solid honors which Miss 


416 


PIQUE. 


Vincent’s alliance with Sir Bichard Tennyson brought. At her 
death, therefore, some years subsequently, the Judge’s famous gold 
epergne, and the manor of Dornton, were found duly bequeathed 
to her beloved niece Dame Caroline Tennyson, of Settringham, for 
the term and period of her life ; and afterwards to her second son 
by Sir Bichard, on condition that he assumed the surname and 
arms of Wedderboume. 

Lord and Lady Elvaston, as may be supposed, participated 
heartily and thankfully in their daughter’s happiness ; and the 
ensuing winter was one of unmingled enjoyment to all. 

Mildred never forgot the lesson inculcated by the severe ordeal 
she had passed. Her reasoning powers were quickened, and she 
saw the danger of yielding to hasty, impetuous conclusions. Her 
perfect confidence in her husband’s affection was never afterwards 
shaken. Belying with the firmest trust on his unswerving honor, 
and ever confiding in- his judgment and experience, her love formed 
the pride and solace of her future life. At the expiration of two 
years from the date of his marriage, Lord Alresford again mingled 
and took an active share in public affairs ; and then, though the 
wife of one of the most distinguished and influential statesmen of 
the day, Mildred was never dazzled by the adulation tendered to her 
wit, beauty, and rank ; if her beautiful cheek ever glowed with a 
flush of gratified pride or vanity, it was at the recital of her hus- 
band’s praises, at the universal homage paid to his lofty integrity 
and distinguished talents. 

Happy in her husband’s love and approbation, the world lost to 
her that false glitter so alluring, yet so dangerous. Lady Alres- 
ford, therefore, though prosperous and admired, an idolized wife 
and a cherished daughter, having learned from experience what 
subtle snares beset the human heart, how plausible its deceit, and 
resolute its strivings after evil ; and knowing how, to quote the 
words of Nicole, that “ the heart is the medium which changes the 
natural hues of objects, and makes them appear other than they 
are in reality ; ” from thenceforth controlled its promptings with 
jealous, prayerful vigilance, and her laudable endeavors were 
finally rewarded by that Peai:l of blessings — abundant inward 
peace. 


LE JL ’10 





















































* 







































\ 























































■ 



































. 


















































. 

. 





* 


























■ 


















. / 































• i X s 2 V S£ 1 KA 4 




i 

' • 








' 






















































. 














































- 

























; ' * I 














